^PS 3503 
I .fl5587 

J 1920 
Copy 1 



^enisoris Select Plays 



by 
jEindscy OBarbee 

^.S.T)enison ^Company 

publishers • Chicago 

iDrice 35 cents 



'^ 



Plays for Schools and Colleges 

AARON BOGGS, FRESHMAN 

By Walter Ben Hare. Comedy in 3 acts; 8 males. 8 
females. Time, 21/^ hours. Price, 35 Cents. 



AFTER THE GAME 

By Lindsey Barbee. Comedy in 2 acts; 1 male, 9 
females. Time, 1% hours. Price, 25 Cents. 



ALL A MISTAKE 

By W. C. Parker. Farce-comedy in 3 acts; 4 males, 4 
females. Time, 2 hours. Price, 35 Cents. 



ALL ON ACCOUNT OF POLLY 

By Harry L. Newton. Comedy in 3 acts; 6 males, 10 
females. Time, 2^4- hours. Price, 35 Cents. 

AS A WOMAN THINKETH 

By Edith F. A. U. Painton. Comedy in 3 acts; 9 males, 

7 females. Time, 2i/^ hours. Price, 35 Cents. 

AT THE END OF THE RAINBOW 

By Lindsey Barbee. Comedy in 3 acts; 6 males. 14 fe- 
males. Time, 2% hours. Prlce,*35 Cents. 

THE CLASS SHIP 

By Edith F. A. U. Painton. Commencement play- 
let; 3 males, 8 females. Time, 35 minutes. 

Price, 25 Cents. 

CLUBBING A HUSBAND 

By Edith F. A. U. Painton. Comedy in 3 acts; 12 fe- 
males. Time, 2 hours. Price, 35 Cents. 

A COLLEGE TOWN 

By Walter Ben Hare. Farce-comedy in 3 acts; 9 males, 

8 females. Time, 214 hours. Price, 35 Cents. 

THE DEACON ENTANGLED 

By Harry Osborne. Comedy in 3 acts; 6 males, 4 fe- 
male.s. Time, 2 hours. Price, 35 Cents. 

AN EARLY BIRD 

By Walter B. Hare. Comedy in 3 acts; 7 males, 7 fe- 
males. Time, 2V4,. hours. Price, 35 Cents. 

THE FIFTEENTH OF JANUARY 

By Lindsey Barbee. Comedy in 3 acts; 11 males, 10 
females. Time, 214 hours. Price, 35 Cents. 

THE GRADUATE'S CHOICE 

By Edith F. A, U. Painton. Commencement playlet; 12 
females. Time, 35 minutes. Price, 25 Cents. 

T. S. Denison & Company, Publishers 

154 West Randolph Street CHICAGO 



Out of the Stillness 

Comedy-Drama in Three Acts 



BY 
LiNDSEY BARBEE 

AUTHOR OF 

"After the Game," "At the End of the Rainbow" "Tht Dream 
That Came True," "The Fifteenth of January," "The King- 
dom of Heart's Content, " "Ruth in a Rush, " "Sing a 
Song of Seniors," "The Spelt of the Image," "The Thread 
of Destiny," "Tomorrow at Ten," "A Trial of Hearts," 
"A Watch, a Wallet and a Jack of Spades," "When 
the Clock Strikes Twelve," "The Whole Truth," 
"In the College Days," "Let's Pretend — 
A Book of Children's Plays, ' ' etc. 




CHICAGO 

T. S. DENISON & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 



1^ 



A 



\ 



cN O T I C E 

PRODUCTION OF THIS PLAY 
■*■ is free to amateurs, but the sole 
professional ri^tts are reserved by 
the author, who may be addressed 
in care of the Publishers. Moving 
picture rifehts reserved. ^^ ^^ 



COPYRIGHT. 1920 

(ByT 
LINDSEY BARBEE 



©GI.0 5 5 730 



OCT -8 1920 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

FOR EIGHT MALES AND NINE FEMALES 
WITH YOUTHFUL BIRTHDAY GUESTS 



CHARACTERS. 

{Named in order of appearance.) 

Marion Deering 

To Whom There Comes a Great Experience 

Bobby Deering Her Nephew 

AlMEE \ 

Billy J 

Virginia / 

Miles ' « , , , r^. , , ^ 

Marjory Bohhy s Birthday Guests 

George \ 

Betty \ 

JuNiE y 

Jane Carroll An Artist 

Lucy A Maid 

Mrs. Deering Mother a la Mode 

Byrne Seymour An Artist 

Sheridan Blair The Man Next Door 

Eileen Deering The Would-be Reformer 

Natalie Deering A Young Widow 

Alfred Ty^yis... Who Steals Hearts — and Other Things 

Aunt Lizzie Who Meets the Highwayman 

Jerry The Would-be Reformed 

Bess Roberts A Guest at the Dinner Dance 

Tom Morgan Her Escort 

Cecile Tevis . . Quick of Wit — and Wily of Stratagem 

Henry Jerome Who Arrives Unerpectedly 

Hamilton Whitney Of the Secret Service 

Scene — A Summer Home. 



Time — The Present. 



Time of Playing — Two Hours and Thirty Minutes. 

3 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 



Act I. The hall in Mrs. Deering's country home. 
A summer afternoon. 

Act IL Again the hall, but this time facing the 
stairway. Three weeks later. 

Act III. Same as Act II. The next morning. 

(During the act the curtain is lowered for a moment 
to indicate a passage of time.) 



STORY OF THE PLAY. 

Marion Deering, after the death of her brother in 
France, refuses to be comforted and grieves because 
death has raised an insurmountable barrier. So mor- 
bid is her attitude that she even refuses to meet John 
Carey, her brother's best friend, whom he has met and 
known overseas. In order to be near her, John Carey, 
under the name of Sheridan Blair, rents the estate ad- 
joining the Deering's summer home and becomes in- 
volved in the mysterious proceedings which subsequently 
develop. 

For the Deering house, formerly occupied by a Ger- 
man agent, is said to contain in a secret hiding place 
a document of great importance to the United States 
government. For the possession of this document, Al- 
fred Tevis, using his friendship with Natalie Deering, 
the young widow, as a wedge, becomes a member of 
the Deering house party and begins a systematic search 
for the treasure, assisted later on by Cecile Tevis, pre- 
sumably his sister but in reality his wife. Cecile, acting 
upon Tevis' suggestion that she throw suspicion on 
Blair, gives a crystal reading; and, relying upon the 
old tradition of a resident ghost, attempts to abstract 
the envelope from its hiding place behind the secret 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 



panel. To her dismay the envelope is missing and 
Tevis concludes that Blair has turned the trick. 

Next morning Blair declares that, at the request of 
the secret service department, he has been keeping Al- 
fred Tevis under surveillance, and, the head of this de- 
partment subsequently appearing, Tevis and his wife 
are accused of the theft of the important document, 
which, as it is soon discovered, is not in their posses- 
sion. At the crucial moment Jerry enters. Jerry — 
who has allowed himself to be regarded as a highway- 
man and who has been engaged as chauffeur by Eileen, 
Marion's younger sister, an advocate of reform — has 
been hidden by Eileen in the room which contains the 
sliding panel, in order to be safe from a pursuing party. 
Endeavoring to find a means of escape, he touches the 
panel, detects the envelope and discovers an opening 
which resolves itself into a passage, leading into the 
garden — a passage by which the former German occu- 
pant had made his escape. Jerry produces the paper 
— and the mystery is solved. 

In the meantime a great change has come Into Ma- 
rion's life. At the suggestion of Sheridan Blair, who 
becomes her close friend, she is made to believe that 
death is no barrier and that a message can be carried 
from the spirit land ; and, feeling that Bob is near, she 
hears his voice and comes into an infinite peace and 
serenity. Blair reveals his true identity — and wins her 
love. 

SYNOPSIS FOR PROGRAM. 

Act I — The excitement of a birthday party — the 
thrill of a ghost story — the arrival of the highwayman 
— and then the stillness of a summer afternoon. Out 
of the stillness comes — the Voice. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 



Act II — The music and merriment of the dinner 
dance — the hiding place behind the tapestry — the pic- 
ture in the crystal — and, afterwards, the ghost ! 

Act III — The deepening of the mystery — the hand 
at bridge — the interference of Blair — the sudden ap- 
pearance of Jerry — and the unexpected climax. Out 
of the stillness — comes the blessing. 

COSTUMES. 

In Act I, Marion, Natalie, Jane and Mrs. Deering 
wear pretty summer gowns, Natalie with a large gar- 
den hat; Eileen wears a sport suit; Lucy, a conven- 
tional maid costume with white apron and cap. Aunt 
Lizzie is attired in a linen coat and a small traveling 
hat. The children all wear dainty summer clothes. 
Seymour is in black coat, white trousers and turned-in 
soft shirt; Blair and Tevis are in immaculate summer 
flannels; Jerry is in riding suit, boots, gauntlets, etc., 
with a blue-bordered handkerchief prominently featured. 

In Act II, Marion, Eileen, Natalie, Cecile and Mrs. 
Deering are in formal evening gowns, Cecile affecting 
a style much more extreme and more striking; Aunt 
Lizzie's gown is high-necked, long-sleeved and built more 
upon the Jrines of comfort than elegance ; Bobby wears 
a little summer suit with white socks and slippers. The 
men are all in evening clothes or Tuxedos save Jerry, 
who wears a chauffeur's uniform. In Scene II, Cecile 
is in trailing Avhite robe and veil. 

In Act III, Mrs. Deering, Natalie, Marion, Eileen 
and Aunt Lizzie are in simple morning gowns. Cecile 
is more ornate and has a long coat, a hat and veil in 
latter part of the act ; Jane wears a simple traveling 
suit. The men all wear summer morning suits ; Bobby 
is in khaki uniform; Mr. Jerome in Palm Beach suit 
with Panama hat. 



OUT OF THE* STILLNESS 



PROPERTIES. 

Act I. 
Piano with bench. 
Table with lamp, vase, books, etc. 
Four chairs and a hassock. 
Telephone stand and chair. 
Draperies, rugs, etc. 

Birthday cake with candles for Marion. 
Tennis rackets for Eileen and Seymour. 
Book for Blair. 

Tea cart with pitcher and glasses for Lucy. 
Traveling bag for Aunt Lizzie. 

Act IL 

Tapestry for wall. 
Tray of punch glasses for Lucy. 
Paper and pencil for Blair. 
Money, paper and key for Tevis. 
Crystal and powder pufF for Cecile. 

Act III. 

Table, cards, score cards, pencils and newspaper for 

Lucy. 
Garden shears for Marion. 
Flowers for Seymour. 
Handbag for Jane. 
Gun for Bobby. 
Letter for Tevis. 
Official envelope for Jerry. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 



SCENE PLOT. 



Act I. 




/7 Chair Window q ^^^ 

Seat 



^pi^gO^^^^^ 




ChaTrD 



Acts II and III. 




Stairs _-, _ 

Chair D Door 

r-j . cm Hassock Telephone 



|uoor| — » 

Doo 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

R. means right of stage ; C, center , R. C, right 
center; L., left; U.E.y upper entrance; D.F., door in 
flat, or scene running across the back of the stage, etc. ; 
up stage, away from f ootHghts ; down stage, near foot- 
lights. The actor is supposed to be facing the audi- 
ence. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 



The First Act. 

Scene : The curtain rises upon a large and exquis- 
itely furnished hall, to which wicker and chintz furni- 
ture, rich rugs and choice pictures give an air of unmis- 
takable wealth and refinement. Conspicuous among the 
furnishings are a grand piano and piano bench down 
right of stage, a long table down left with a large chair 
on one side and smaller chair on the other. A few books, 
a vase and a handsonw lamp adorn the table, and a 
rug is thrown over the piano bench. There is a tele- 
phone table and chair at the upper left of stage, a large 
chair a little to the left of the stairway which is at the 
right of the stage, and a hassock at center. Through 
a large, open doorway with French windows leading 
into a yard beyond, the sunshine of a summer after- 
noon creeps in golden radiance. Right of this door 
which is at center of flat and reveals landscape drop 
beyond, is a long open window with window seat and 
hangings of the chintz. Small table between window 
and doorway. 

From a dining room left of doorway where a flower- 
bedecked table is visible, comes a crowd of merry young- 
sters, following Marion, who bears aloft a cake lit with 
ten bright candles. Marion is the finest type of Ameri- 
can young womanhood, possessing poise, culture and 
an indescribable charm. Although she is gay and ap- 
parently light-hearted with the children, one is con- 
scious that underneath it all there is a deep depression. 

Marion. Make way for the birthday cake ! Boys 
on one side and girls on the other ! And every one of 

9 



10 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

you may blow out a pretty candle. (Sits right of table 
with Bobby on right arm of chair, Aimee and Junie 
on chair at other side of table, Virginia and Betty 
back of table, Marjory on hassock at center, Billy 
and George on piano bench and Miles on chair left of 
stairway.) Who is to be first, Bobby boy? 

Bobby. Aimee, I think. (Reproachfully.) Ladies 
first — always. Aunt Marion. 

Marion. Of course. Then Aimee will try this little 
pink one right on the edge. Ready .^^ (As Aimee 
blows.) There! Now, Aimee, suppose you make a wish 
for Bobby — the very nicest wish that you can think of! 

Aimee. The very nicest wish I can think of is about 
a fairy. Miss Marion. 

Marion. What fairy, dear? 

Aimee. The birthday fairy who brings a magic gift. 

Marion. And what is the gift? 

Aimee. My story book says it's a happy heart. 
Do you think that the fairy will come to Bobby? 

Marion. I'm sure she will. This very night she*ll 
touch his eyes — and his lips — and his hands. 

Aimee. Then what will happen? 

Marion. He'll see only the beautiful things in the 
world — he'll speak only the kindest words — and he'll 
always be very busy doing things for other people. 

Billy (rising). But there aren't any fairies. Miss 
Marion. 

Marion. No fairies? Why, Billy! 

Billy. I can't see them — or hear them — or feel 
them. And I'm not going to believe in anything I can't 
see — or hear — or feel. 

Marion. Somebody from Grown-Up Country has 
been talking to you. And lots of people in Grown-Up 
Country have forgotten the way to Fairyland. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS U 

Billy (as he comes fonvard and blows his candle). 
Then I think my wish will be about seeing a fairy, Miss 
Marion. (Runs back to chair.) 

Virginia. That's not a real birthday wish and it isn't 
a wish for Bobby, either. 

Marion. Then suppose you take your turn, Vir- 
ginia. 

Virginia (after she blows). Well, / wish that Bobby 
will be so good that he won't tease me and pull my hair 
and break my .dolly! 

Marion. Bobby ! Bobby! Do you do all those dread- 
ful things .f* And to a little girl.'' 

Bobby. Girls make me tired. They can't ever take 
a joke. 

Marion (as Miles and Marjory come forward). 
Here are Miles and Marjory ! (Bobby slips over to has- 
sock.) Suppose you blow very hard — and both to- 
gether. (As they blow the candles.) Now, Miles, what 
wish are you making for Bobby.^ (Miles whispers.) 
It's such a faint little wish that I'll have to listen very 
closely. (Leans over as Marjory whispers also.) And 
Marjory wishes the very same thing. Now, what do 
you think it is, boys and girls? 

All. Tell us ! Tell us ! 

Marion. Miles and Marjory *think it would be just 
the very nicest thing in the world if Bobby would have 
another birthday party next week. 

Aimee. But he couldn't have a birthday party with- 
out a birthday, could he. Miss Marion? (Joins George 
and Billy on bench.) 

Marion. Not very well, I'm afraid. (Miles returns 
to his chair. Marjory pushes Bobby from hassock. 
He returns to Marion.) 

George. And nobody wants a birthday every week. 



12 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 



Marion. Not a bit of it. Birthdays come too often 
for some of us. 

Virginia. Ladies forget all about their birthdays. 
(Emphatically shaking her head.) My — mother — says 
— so. 

Betty. Why, Miss Marion, you'd be about a hun- 
dred million weeks old, wouldn't you? 

Marion. Undoubtedly. (As George advances.) 
Next in line, George.? 

George. I have my wish all made up — and it's a 
bully one, too. 

Marion. All right, sir. Out with it! (He blows.) 
George. I wish that Bob would get a baseball bat 
of his own. I'm tired lending mine to him. 
Bobby. Don't want your old bat — 
Marion. Bobby ! Bobby ! Remember that George is 
your guest. 

Bobby. And anyway, I cZi J get one ! (George mns 
back to bench as Betty comes forward.) 

Marion. Betty has a lovely wish — I can see it shin- 
ing in her eyes. 

Betty (blowing her candle). It is a lovely wish — 
and everybody will like it. For I'm wishing just as hard 
as I can wish that we may go out under the pretty 
trees with the sunshine and the flowers — and the birds — 
(pauses) Miss Marion.? 
Marion. Yes, dear.? 
Betty. The cake is to eat — isn't it.? 
Marion (laughing). Of course it is. And some- 
thing tells me that there is lemonade out under those 
pretty trees. (All start toward door.) Wait a moment 
until Junie has had his chance. 

JuNiE (after blowing his candle). Bobby and I both 



OUT OF THE STILLN ESS 13 

want to be soldiers — and we're going to be. And what's 
more we're going to — fight! 

Bobby. My father was a soldier — and he fought 
very bravely. Didn't he, Aunt Marion.? 

Marion. Yes, dear. And he died for his country 
just as bravely. 

Bobby (after a pause). May I make a wish, too.? 
(Rises.) 

Marion. Of course you may. 

Bobby. Then I wish that I may grow up to be 

just — like — him! 

Marion (hiding her face on his shoulder^. Oh. 
Bobby, Bobby! 

And Jane enters, gay, smiling and possessing the 
intangible something which marks a thoughtfulness of 
others. 

Jane. Don't tell me that I'm too late for the birth- 
day cake. (Betty and Virginia run to one side, Mar- 
jory to the other.) 

Marion. The cake is intact, Jane ; but, like the fool- 
ish Virgin, you lose out on the hghts. 

Jane. Your Bibhcal reference is a bit hazy, my 
dear, but, in the language of the outer world, I get 
you! (Turns.) Can't I even make a wish, Bobby.? 

Bobby. Not without a candle, Miss Jane. 

Jane. But a wish can be a perfectly good wish 
without a candle, can't it.? 

Bobby. Try it and see. 

Jane. Of course I'll try it. (Pauses.) Well— let 
me think a moment. (Again she pauses.) Has any- 
body made a wish about the Birthday Town.? 

Marjory. The Birthday Town.? 

Jane. Haven't you ever heard about the Birthday 
Town, Marjory.? 



14 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Marjory. Why — no. 

Jane. Haven't jou, George? 

George. Never heard of it. 

Jane. Or you, Betty.? 

Betty. Never in all my life. 

Jane. Dear me — what can your mothers and fath- 
ers be thinking of! 

Miles {jumping up and down). Tell us, Miss Jane 
— please tell us ! 

Jane. Sure you all want to hear about it.'' {They 
assent.) Well, the Birthday Town can't be described 
in any plain, everyday words. {Goes to piano.) It has 
a lovely jingle — all it's own. (Marion stands hack of 
piano and lifts Junie to piano; Bobby stands hy her; 
George stands at side of piano, next to audience; Vir- 
ginia, Marjory and Aimee sit on floor at Jane's left; 
Betty stands at her right and Miles and Billy back 
of her. Jane recites to a musical accompaniment.) 

Have you ever heard of the Birthday Town — that is 

near the River of Time.? 
In the magical, mystical Land of Youth, next door to 
the Grown-Up Clime.? 

There are millions of rainbow-colored toys — 
There are whiling, beguiling, childish joys — 
There's a rollicking, frolicking time — and it's all 
for the birthday girls and boys. 
There are fairy flowers, 
There are elfin bowers. 
There are golden hours 
In the Birthday Town. 
There are Merry-Go-Rounds that never stop — 

there's a wonderful sugar-plum tree ; 
There's a musical chime of happy hearts — there's 
a glimmering, shimmering sea 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 15 

With thistledown roseleaf ships that gleam 
Like fairj smiles in a quiet dream, 
While a whizzying, dizzying Man-in-the-Moon rides 
down on a slanting beam. 

There's a golden haze, 
There's a mystic maze, 
There are cloudless d^iys 
In the Birthday Town. 
(As she finishes the second verse she rises from the 
■piano and says, "'Join hands, hoys and girls, and well 
go out under the trees."' Then she takes Bobby's hand 
and leads a xmnding march and the children follow, 
hand-in-hand in a long line. As they march she con- 
tinues') 

And how do we reach the Birthday Town — why, we 

follow the httle Years 
As they beckon us on and on and on away from the 
Grown-Up fears — 

Through a glistening mist of silvery gray. 
Their clarion call rings sweet and gay. 
Like dancing, glancing will-o'-the-wisps they lead 
us along the way. 

Oh there's endless youth, 
And there's childhood truth. 
And there's love, forsooth. 
In the Birthday Town. 
And, at the last, she leads them all through the door- 
way and into the yard beyond. IMarign stands at the 
doorway looking after them as Mrs. Deering enters 
from the dining room. She is faultlessly attired, prop- 
erly conventional and naturally a little hard. 

INIrs. D. Bobby's party seems to be a success if one 
may judge from the attendant noise. (Sits right of 
table. ) 



16 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Lucy enters from dining room and carries cake out- 
doors. 

Marion {turning). I hope so. Birthdays should 
be the very brightest spots upon the background of 
one's vanishing youth. {Sits on arm of chair right of 
door.) 

Mrs. D. And, fortunately, a child forgets. 

Marion. Bobby has not forgotten, mother. 

Mrs. D. Then it is because you force him to remem- 
ber. Death, to a child, is merely an incident, painful 
at the time, but soon merging into oblivion. 

Marion. Surely his father's heroic death is more 
than an incident. 

Mrs. D. Yet thousands died in the same way. The 
boy has his life to live — and we have ours. 

Marion. I cannot understand you, mother. There 
is not a moment in the day when I do not think of Bob 
— his care, his unselfishness, his splendidness. There is 
not a moment when I fail to realize that he is — gone. 

Mrs. D. I am his mother, Marion. Surely a mother, 
as well as a sister, has some claim to grief. 

Marion. You suffered in your own way — but not in 
mine. Bob was not to you what he was to me. 

Mrs. D. Robert was a dutiful son — he fulfilled all 
my expectations, I gave him willingly to the country 
— I am proud of the way he died. Naturally, I feel his 
loss, but I refuse to allow it to shadow my existence. 
What has happened is beyond my control ; accordingly, 
as I said before, I have my life to live and it is my 
privilege to live it in the way that will bring most hap- 
piness. 

Marion. You never understood him. 

Mrs. D. Perhaps not. You must remember that he 
gave his affection — unreservedly — to you. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS. 17 

Marion. But you never invited his confidence — and 
— apparently — did not desire a closer tie. 

Mrs. D. Certainly not. I am not demonstrative, 
Marion, nor am I sentimental. I have allowed you chil- 
dren everything in the way of money, travel, education 
and social advantages. What other obligation rests 
upon me? 

Marion. Bob craved more than that. 

Mrs. D. Which you doubtless gave him. 

Marion. Oh, I did — I did! There was nothing 
which we did not share — 

Mrs. D. To the exclusion of his wife. 

Marion (scornfully, as she rises). Natalie! What 
sympathy, understanding, consideration and love did 
she ever give him ! His money and his good looks 
charmed her — and, as for him — well, it was the mistake 
of his life. (Crosses and sits on the piano bench.) 

Mrs. D. You're speaking from the standpoint of a 
jealous sister. 

Marion. Oh, no, I'm not. I should have been happy 
in his happiness. 

Mrs. D. Natalie was the belle of her own particular 
set, and Robert was counted very fortunate to win her. 

Marion. You urged it, mother — you know you did. 

Mrs. D. Naturally. She had her own fortune ; she 
possessed a social grace — 

Marion. And being a good wife and mother has 
never entered into her scheme of existence. 

Mrs. D. You are unfair to Natalie. 

Marion. Perhaps I am. You see, I am judging her 
by sins of omission. For Bob was everything to nic — 

Mrs. D. And to her. 

Marion. Do you think so? Then how do you ex- 
plain her apparent forgetfulness at the present time? 



18 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Mrs. D. She was very conventional after his deatii. 
She wore her mourning for the proper length of time. 

Marion. It was very becoming. 

Mrs. D. And rigorously absented herself from any 
social function. 

Marion. For which isolation she is now compen- 
sating herself by a round of gayety. 

Mrs. D. You cannot expect Natalie to forego all 
pleasures. She is young — fun-loving — and attractive — 

Marion. To the men. You've said it all. 

Mrs. D. Don't repeat such a remark to one who 
might judge more harshly than I. The natural infer- 
ence to a stranger would be — that you are envious. 

Marion. I think not. Even a stranger would real- 
ize that Natalie and I have different standards, {^b- 
ruptly,) Who is this latest dangler? 

Mrs.' D. Alfred Tevis is his name. He is exceed- 
ingly charming, evidently fascinated with Natalie — and 
I can seen no reason why we should not have him as a 
guest. 

Marion. I don't like him — and Natalie is flirting 
outrageously. 

Mrs. D. Again let me remind you that you are un- 
fair to Natalie. 

Marion. Then she is unfair to Bob's memory. 

Mrs. D. Natalie is a good daughter-in-law, Marion. 

Marion (rising). And I wish to be a good daughter, 
mother. (Crosses to Mrs. Deering.) 

Mrs. D. Then don't be morbid. 

Marion. I'm not morbid — and I never intrude my 
grief. (Stands in front of doorway with back to audi- 
ence. ) 

Mrs. D. Then — forget. Enjoy the gay times with 
other young people— enter into every festivity — even 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 19 

fall in love — and marry. Life will seem very different 
to you and you will find that there is a cure for every 
sorrow. 

Marion. There is no cure for mine. Oh, it seems 
cruel — cruel — that only Bobby and I should remember 
— or care! (Crosses to right of stage.) 

Enter Jane from doorway. 

Jane. Such a happy lot of kiddies I never saw ! 
{Comes to Mrs. D.) And — oh, such a wonderful old 
home, Mrs. Deering ! How lovely of you to let me en- 
joy it with you. {Stands hack of Mrs. Deering's 
chair.) 

Marion {turning) . Your artistic soul loves beauty, 
doesn't it, Jane? And your hard-working self needs a 
rest. I'm glad you can be here with us, even for the 
few short weeks you promised. 

Mrs. D. {complacently). It is a beautiful place — 
and will make a satisfactory summer home, I think. 
I find that the right sort of people is all about us^ 
and that is alwa3^s such a relief. 

Jane. Who are your neighbors.^ 

Mrs. D. The Stuyvesants are on one side. Of course 
you know the Stuyvesants. (Jane nods.) Then the 
house be^^ond them has been sold to some wealthy stran- 
ger who has not yet taken possession. 

Jane. And your other next door neighbor.? 

Mrs. D. Is a Mr. Blair. He has rented the house 
for the summer and is engaged in some scientific work 
I understand — so he won't bother us. I dislike to have 
a rented estate so near, but there is always the chance 
of its being sold to a permanent occupant. 

Jane. How did you happen to purchase the place.'' 
{Crosses and sits on the piano bench.) 

Mrs. D. My lawyer heard of it and I really obtained 



20 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

it at a bargain as the owner was exceedingly eager to 
sell. 

Marion. Originally, it had a history, I'm told. It 
even claims a tragedy — and a subsequent ghost. {Sits 
left of stairway.) 

Mrs. D. All utter nonsense. 

Marion. Of course — but I'm just repeating the gos- 
sip. But one thing we do know. 

Jane. And what's that? 

Marion. That the Hunters, who sold it to us, took 
possession after the notorious Von Holz had precipi- 
tately, and at the instigation of the government, de- 
parted for his native land on the Rhine. 

Jane. I don't remember about him. 

Marion. He was, in reality, one of Germany's big 
men — delegated to special work in America. He lived 
here as a recluse accumulating such information as he 
could; and just as the government was about to lay its 
finger upon him, somebody warned him and he escaped. 

Jane. Leaving, I suppose, a valuable document ly- 
ing carelessly about. 

Marion. If so, nobody has yet discovered it. 

Jane. Then this is our chance to make the discov- 
ery. Wouldn't it be thrilling to hold Germany in the 
hollow of one's hand.? 

Mrs. D. (rising). Too thrilling even to think about. 
Suppose you two discuss it while I pay my respects to 
the birthday party. (Goes out doorway.) 

Marion (rising). Jane, am I morbid.'^ (Sits by 
Jane.) 

Jane. Not morbid — but frightfully unhappy. Have 
you ever stopped to think that — whatever trouble has 
come to a person — she has only to stretch forth her 
hand to grasp some happiness in the world about her.'' 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 21 

Marion. That's a theory — not a fact. 

Jane. But it is a fact. 

Marion. Not for me. 

Jane. Then you have taken an unnatural attitude, 
Marion, and Bob would be the last to wish it so. 

Marion. Bob seems so far away — he, who was the 
nearest — and dearest. 

Jane.. But he should still be nearest — and dearest. 

Marion. I can't understand it, Jane. (Pauses.) 
Just before he sailed for France he said — with a little 
catch in his voice — for we were thinking of the same 
thing — "Sis" — dear old Sis — do you think that a little 
thing like death can separate us?" But it has — it has. 

Jane. Death is no barrier. 

Marion. You see things differently, Jane. 

Jane. Why shouldn't I.^^ If you had been overseas 
as I have been ; if you, too, had watched scores of brave 
young fellows meet the great adventure, you would feel 
— with me — that they have simply slipped across the 
border. 

Marion (rising). Bob is gone — gone — that is all 
I can realize — all I can comprehend. (Crosses right of 
table.) 

Jane. Would it not help to see John Carey — to 
hear him tell of Bob.? 

Marion. Never — never. 

Jane. John Carey was Bob's best friend — his com- 
rade — he was with him just before the end. It seems 
to me that your greatest comfort would come from him. 

Marion. John Carey is only a name to me — I never 
saw him — Bob met him overseas. Why should the sight 
of him remind me that he is spared — with life and hope 
and love before him — and that Bob is — dead. 



22 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Jane. That's a wrong and an unworthy view to take 
of it, Marion. 

Marion. But I can't help it. 

Jane. Has he written — lately .^^ 

Marion. Yes. 

Jane. He still wishes to see you.'^ 

Marion. Yes. (Pauses.) And, once again, I have 
refused. 

Jane. I'm sorry. 

Marion. Perhaps, I'm wrong — and I know I am 
ungenerous. 

Jane {rising). Because you haven't yet learned the 
great lesson of the war. {Joins Marion at center.) 

Marion. And that — 

Jane. You must find out for yourself. {Places an 
arm around Marion.) In the meantime, watch the kid- 
dies at play ; the sunshine will do you good. 

Marion {smiling). And a few sunbeams may come 
my way. {As Jane kisses her.) You're hoping that — 
aren't you, Jane.^ 

Jane. Indeed I am. (Marion passes out the door- 
way. Hardly has she disappeared when Jane quickly 
makes her way to the telephone and seats herself.) 
Oakland 74 * * * I have left the book on your side 
of the hedge * * * it will serve as a sufficient excuse 
for your appearance * * * any time this afternoon. 
{Hangs up the receiver and seems absorbed in thought.) 

Seymour appears at doorway, twirling a tennis 
racket, very pleasant to behold in his summer flannels, 
and impressing one with his grace of bearing, his charm 
of manner and his gift of an artistic temperament. For 
a moment he stands unnoticed by Jane and gazes quiz- 
zically at her. 

Seymour. If I had my palette, Jane, I'd paint you 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 23 

as Meditation — a stern and determined Meditation. 
You look as if you had just settled a human fate. 

Jane. Perhaps I have — who knows? And why 
haven't you your palette, Byrne Seymour? (Crosses 
and sits on arm of chair right of table.) 

Seymour. Because, in my present frame of mind, 
a tennis racket is much easier to hold. (Sits on has- 
sock.) 

Jane. Isn't there ever to be another frame of mind.f^ 

Seymour. Meaning — 

Jane. Your art. I've known you too long and too 
well, Byrne, not to protest against any weakening of 
your ambition. 

Seymour. Ambition doesn't necessarily mean talent 
— nor does it always bring success. 

Jane. But it signifies a loyalty to one's ideals — and 
a sincere effort to realize them. 

Seymour. I am a slacker, Jane — I'll be honest with 
you. (Pauses.) And I'll never go back to art. 

Jane. And why? (Sits in chair.) 

Seymour. I can't — that's all. After the hospital — 
Flanders — and the hell of it all — art seems a trivial — 
an impossible thing. And — my hand has lost its cun- 
ning. 

Jane. You shall not say it. 

Seymour. It's no use for you to remonstrate, Jane 
— for not even you can pull me out of this black hole 
of depression which follows the memory of trench, 
wounds and battlefield. Oh, I don't show it, I know — 
but it's there. 

Jane (leaning forward). Will you listen to me? 

Seymour. Haven't I listened to you since the Art 
League days when we hoped and slaved and starved to- 
gether? 



24 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Jane. But they were happy days just the same. 

Seymour. Weren't they, though? Do you remember 
the funny httle lunches with never enough to go round? 

Jane {eagerly). And the day you sold your first 
picture ! 

Seymour. And the concerts in the topmost seats of 
the topmost balcony? You've come on since then, Jane, 
and your little old scrawl means something to the liter- 
ary light who wants his books to bear the best illustra- 
tions. 

Jane. And 30ur pictures have a technique and a 
vision which few young painters achieve. 

Seymour. Nonsense ! 

Jane. Oh, but it isn't nonsense. Do you know who 
said that very thing? Merton. And you must admit 
that Merton is the greatest of our art critics. 

Seymour. Did he really say it? 

Jane. He really did. Now — with the knowledge of 
such a tribute — can 3^ou say tliat your hand has lost 
its cunning? 

Seymour. But that was my work before the war. 

Jane. And the war means readjustment — that's all. 

Seymour. I'm not so sure of that. 

Jane. But I am. Your beauty-loving soul has been 
paralyzed by the ugliness of war; your incentive has 
seemingly been lost; but, now that the horror is gone, 
you mu: t force yourself back to the old perspective. 

Seymour. Even with talent and a possible future 
there are years and years of struggle and poverty to 
an artist who does not possess some magic influence to 
push him into the limelight. 

Jane. Exactly. I'm taking care of all that for you. 

Seymour. And how — oh Wise One? 

Jane. You may not Hke what I'm saying to you. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 25 

Seymour (laughing). It won't be the first time. 

Jane. But, Byrne, I do want things made easy for 
you — I want to see you achieve fame and happiness 
unhampered by the problems of everyday existence. 
For you're on the road to something great if you'll 
only take the right turn. 

Seymour. And the right turn.'' 

Jane. Is to marry. 

Seymour. Marry 9 (Rises.) Great heavens, girl, 
even if I had the money I couldn't do that. Remember 
that "he travels the fastest who travels alone." 

Jane. Not always. For you must marry some one 
who can give you this very influence you need and de- 
sire — the influence which will push you into the lime- 
light. (Pauses.) I've even chosen the girl. 

Seymour. Who.? 

Jane. Marion. 

Seymour. Marion? 

Jane. Why not? She is the very one to inspire you. 
She is appreciative of genius ; she knows those who 
can be of inestimable service to you. In short, she 
could provide the very atmosphere you need. 

Seymour. But I'm not in love with her. 

Jane. Not now, perhaps. But it will be very easy 
to love Marion — and to love her sincerely. 

Seymour. And I'm the last man on earth she would 
care to marry. 

Jane. I'm not so sure of that. Marion is very 
lonely since Bob's death; she needs just such love and 
protection as you could give her. 

Seymour. Hang it all, Jane! You're going too far. 
I'm not a cad. 

Jane. Of course you're not. (Rises.) 



26 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Seymour. And even the suggestion is unfair to 
Marion. (Crosses to loioer right of stage,) 

Jane. Naturally, unless jou can grow to love her. 

Marion enters from doorway. 

Jane. Dear me! Surely the party isn't over. (Stands 
hi front of table.) 

Marion. Not a bit of it. I'm sent to tell you that 
a portion of the birthday cake is waiting you if you 
hurry. (Crossing to Seymour.) Why so serious, Ra- 
phael ? 

Seymour. Jane has been lecturing me about my 
future. 

Marion. Futures are uncertain quantities. Best not 
bother about them. 

Jane. Except when one is about to paint a picture. 

Marion. That does make a difference. What's the 
subject, Byrne.f^ 

Seymour. Suggest one. 

Marion. War, of course. (Bitterly.) The face of 
a fearless, splendid youth — and against the back- 
ground the shadow of a Prussian helmet! (Turns and 
walks back stage.) 

Jane. Oh, no — no ! Rather make War a tall, ma- 
jestic figure, behind whose somber robes one glimpses 
blue sky, golden sunshine and quiet happiness. 

Enter Blair from doorway. He is striking in ap- 
pearance — of a dignified reserve — which makes his 
lighter moods all the more attractive. 

Blair. Pardon my intrusion — but I am looking 
for Miss Deering. 

Marion (coming forward). I am Miss Deering. 

Blair (coming forward). Then I have the satisfac- 
tion of returning what I am sure is a most cherished 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 27 

possession. {Hands her a hook •which he is carrying.) 
Bj some strange fancy it found its way to the other 
side of the hedge which divides your grounds from 
mine. I am Sheridan Blair, Miss Deering. 

Marion {offering her hand). Then tb.e lost book 
has been instrumental in introducing neighbors, hasn't 
it.? Though how it was spirited to your domain I can- 
not imagine. 

Blair. Perhaps one of the human fairies on your 
lawn is responsible. 

Marion. It's quite possible. {Turns.) jNIiss Carroll 
and Mr. Seymour — Mr. Blair. {They all acknowledge 
introductions and Blair gives Jane an understanding 
look.) And as it is about tea time, you must begin to 
be neighborly by becoming acquainted with us all. 

Blair. It's a temptation — but my car is waiting 

and I must not linger. Another- afternoon, if I may. 

Marion. We shall be glad to see you at any time. 

Blair. Then may I share a sunset with you? 

{Crosses to doorway and looks off stage.) The view 

from this spot must be quite wonderful. 

Seymour. So wonderful that it beggars description. 
Marion. Are you motoring for any length of time, 
Mr. Blair? 

Blair. Only for an hour or so. 

Marion. In that case you will return when the sky 
is most gorgeous — so do not hesitate to take posses- 
sion of the grounds and make the most of the color 
scheme. 

Blair. You are very kind and I shall take advan- 
tage of the suggestion. {Bows.) Goodbye. 

Marion. Goodbye. And many thanks. {Exit 
Blair at left of doorzmiy.) 

Seymour. I like him, Marion. 



28 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Marion. So do I. 

Jane. And do you suppose I've stayed so long that 
my piece of birthday cake is forfeit? 

Marion. I can't promise — but I advise immediate 
investigation. 

As Jane goes out right of doorway, she collides with 
Eileen, who rushes frantically in. Eileen is a noisy 
little whirlwind, impetuous, lively and impish. 

Eileen {shaking Marion). Who — is — the — man? 

Marion. Our next door neighbor. He returned a 
book which had mysteriously been transported to his 
yard. {Lays hook on table.) Do you approve of him? 

Eileen. Approve? He's heavenly. And it will be 
such a relief to have a real man about. 

Seymour. Great heavens, Eileen — spare a fellow. 
As I've been a guest for some days and very much 
around, that remark makes me squirm. 

Eileen. But you're a genius, Byrne, and a genius 
is never a real man. {Stands left of stairway.) 

And next, Mrs. Deering enters — hurriedly and evi- 
dently excited. 

Mrs. D. {going to Marion). Who — is — the — man? 

Marion {laughingly). Our next door neighbor. 

Mrs. D. What was he doing here? 

Marion. Kindly returning a book of mine which he 
found on his side of the hedge. 

Mrs. D. He's very distinguished in appearance. 

Eileen. Wliich means that he wears good looking 
clothes. 

Mrs. D. Don't be flippant, Eileen. {As she touches 
hell hut ton right of doorway.) It seems there's one 
worry after another today 

Eileen. What's the latest? 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 29 

Mrs. D. The chauffeur has left. 

Marion. No particular trouble, I hope.^ 

Mrs. D. Words with the gardener — and I haven't 
the slightest doubt that this minx of a Lucy fanned 
the flame. 

Eileen. Never mind. I know of another chauffeur. 
One of the girls has a perfect treasure whom she wishes 
to hand over for the summer. (Crosses to table.) Shall 
I call her up.'^ 

Mrs. D. I've already telephoned the city — but an 
inquiry on j^our part will not be amiss. (As Lucy 
enters from dining room.) You may serve iced tea, 
Lucy — and we'll have it here. 

Lucy. Yes, Mrs. Deering. (Goes to dining room. 
Lucy, by the way, is small and coquettish and wears 
a bewitching apron and cap with her severely plain 
black gown.) 

Mrs. D. (seating herself in chair right of doorway). 
What makes it particularly annoying is the fact that 
Aunt Lizzie is arriving this afternoon. I've been forced 
to send a hired car for her — and such a proceeding will 
not meet with her approval. 

Eileen. Aunt Lizzie! I'd forgotten all about her. 
Hadn't you, Marion? (Sits right of table.) 

Marion. I'm afraid I had. (Glances at watch.) 
She should be here now. 

Mrs. D. Something has happened, I'm afraid. 

Marion. Don't worry. The train is late — as usual. 
That's all. If you people will excuse me I'll rest a bit 
— and finish a letter that must go tonight. 

Eileen. It isn't fair to leave Aunt Lizzie to us. 

Marion. Then save her for me. (Goes up stair- 
way,) 



30 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Seymour (sitting on piano bench). Who is Aunt 
Lizzie ? 

Eileen. The family skeleton, Byrne. Not really a 
skeleton — but you understand. 

Mrs. D. Eileen! 

Eileen. And the reason we don't shut her up in a 
closet is because of her bank account. Her bones may 
not rattle — but her dollars do. 

Mrs. D. (with dignity). Miss Deering is the sister 
of my husband, Byrne. She is a bit sharp-tongued and 
a trifle eccentric — but in spite of it all a very estimable 
woman. 

Eileen. Being an artist, Byrne, you can make a 
mental picture. Sharp-tongued, eccentric, estimable 
— but wait until you meet her! 

Enter Natalie and Tevis — Natalie, dainty, co- 
quettish and very aware of her own charms; Tevis pol- 
ished, courteous and of winning personality. They 
stand in the doorway. Seymour rises. 

Natalie. Dear me ! I hope we're not late for tea. 
(Crosses to chair left of stairway and seats herself. 
Seymour sits.) 

Mrs. D. On the contrary, you're just on time. I 
had begun to fear that the birthday party had proved 
too attractive. 

Tevis (crossing and standing by Eileen). Lemon- 
ade and cake are a bit too ambrosial for husky mortals 
like me. 

Natalie. The party was a wee bit depressing, after 
all. For it is rather overwhelming to realize that I am 
the mother of that big ten-year-old boy. 

Tevis. I haven't reached tlie point of realizing it. 
You must have drunk deeply of tlie fountain of youth. 

Eileen. The re^l fountain of youth belongs to a 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 31 

prehistoric age, Mr. Tevis. Nowadays, its substitute 
comes in small, beauty-parlor boxes with a war tax! 

Natalie (rising). Eileen, do you mind changing 
places with me. The strong Hght gives me a headache. 

Eileen (rising). Of course I'll change. I like to 
sit in a strong light because it proves that, as yet, I 
have acquired no wrinkles. (They change places.) 

Seymour. Don't boast, young lady. Your time 
will come. 

Eileen. I hope so. I'd hate to reach the legitimate 
wrinkle age and not have what's coming to me. 

Tevis. Rather an original view of the matter — isn't 
it, Seymour.'^ (Brings telephone chair and places it at 
Natalie's right.) 

Seymour. No more original than the perpetrator 
of the remark. 

Mrs. D. Originality seems hardly the term to apply 
to the vagaries of a would-be reformer. 

Tevis. And who is the would-be reformer.'^ Surely 
not Miss Eileen. 

Natalie. The very one. Her first attempt had to 
do with the Board of the Orphan Asylum. (Pauses.) 
Fortunately, she escaped w^ith her life. 

Eileen. And the entire approbation of the orphans. 
Don't forget that, Natalie, if you insist upon acting 
as publicity committee. 

Natalie. Her next achievement was a campaign 
in the interest of good roads — she even stumped the 
neighborhood. All she gained was an unappreciative 
audience, a broken car, a fractured disposition — 

Eileen. And experience. Don't forget the experi- 
ence. I haven't. 

Tevis. By Jove, Miss Eileen, you would have hast- 
ened the victory of the English suffragettes. 



32 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Seymour. Why worry about anything so far away 
when there is a perfectly good Prison Reform Bill 
which needs agitators. 

Eileen {excitedly). Really, Byrne? I have some 
corking ideas upon Prison Reform. 

Seyimour. Then why not hand them on to the proper 
parties ? 

Eileen. I'm afraid they wouldn't listen. 

Tevis. Too far advanced for them? 

Eileen. Something like that. You see, I believe 
that the only way to manage a criminal is to treat him 
as if nothing had happened ; to make him feel that he 
is trusted ; to instill the right principles ; to recognize 
him as a social equal. 

Tevis. Mrs. Deering, I shall contend that your 
daughter is original. 

Mrs. D. After that speech — who wouldn't? 

Seymour. My dear girl — in the immortal words of 
the poet — it can't he did! 

Eileen. Oh, but it can. {Excitedly.) Would that 
fate would send me a criminal of my own to reform I 
{Rises.) 

Mrs. D. {in an annoyed tone). Really, Eileen, this 
is carrying matters a bit too far. 

Natalie {plaintively). It's an age of progression 
— isn't it? And I am so dreadfully old-fashioned! 
{Sighs.) There seems to be no place for the quiet lit- 
tle woman who loves her home, her household duties — 

Eileen {slily). And her fellow man? {Sits on the 
arm of her chair.) 

Tevis. Isn't there? {Leans forward and rMspers.) 

There is for me. 

% * 
Enter Lucy with tea cart hearing tall pitcher of 

iced tea; also glasses and spoons. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 33 

Mrs. D. Natalie, will you serve? (Lucy wheels cart 
to Natalie, and, after serving everyone, goes out at 
dining room.) 

Tevis. Your country home is a marvel of beauty, 
Mrs. peering. Rarely— even in England— have I seen 
anything more stately and more picturesque. 

Mrs. D. What gratifying praise, Mr. Tevis— es- 
pecially so, since I value your opinion. You have lived 
abroad.? 

Tevis. Off and on. I am rather a vagabond, I fear. 

Eileen. In the war, of course. 

Tevis (Ughtly). Who wasn't in the war! 

Seymour. Now that we are once more settling down 
to normal existence, perhaps America will prove at- 
tractive enough to claim you as a permanent citizen. 

Tevis {xdth a glance at Natalie who becomes con- 
fused). I fancy it will. 

^ Eileen. Watch out, Natalie ! Those glasses are rat- 
thng like castanets. 

Seymour. Have you heard of the family ghost, 
Tevis ? 

Tevis. Don't tell me that this perfect place is sad- 
dled with a ghost. 

Natalie. But it is. The ghost of a long-ago 
maiden who killed her lover. And it's said to appear 
only before disaster descends upon the house. Grue- 
some, isn't it.? ^ 

Eileen. Being haunted by a thousand ghosts isn't 
equal to the contamination of one German. 

Tevis {quickly). A German? Now we are getting 
down to modern times. 

Mrs. D. This German was a former resident of the 
place. T.he government disturbed his meditation — 
and he left unceremoniously. 



34 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Tevis. Captured, of course. 

Mrs. D. Unfortunately not — though the h'ouse was 
surrounded. His escape has been something of a mys- 
tery. 

Eileen. Sounds Hke an underground passage to me. 
Wouldn't it be fun to find his bones along the way? 

Natalie (placing her glass upon carty. Suppose 
we change the subject — it's getting on my ner\^es. 
(Rises.) I'll be chief exorciser and relegate the trait- 
ors and the ghosts to their proper habitation. (Crosses 
to piano bench as Seymour jises, crosses to Mrs. 
Deering and places her glass and his upon cart. ) 

Tevis (after placing his glass upon cart). What 
can a Dresden shepherdess have to do with traitors and 
ghosts? (Follows Natalie.) 

Eileen (as she crosses to tea cart with her glass). 
You're always calling Natalie names, Mr. Tevis. 

Tevis (standing by Natalie who seats herself iipcrn 
bench). I don't understand. 

Eileen. Night before last she was a Turner sunset 
— whatever that may be; last night s-he reminded you 
of a Rossetti sonnet — and now you've turned her intjo 
a Dresden shepherdess. 

Natalie. But I like his pretty phrases. (To Tevis.) 
Can't you manufacture more of them? 

Eileen (as she and Seymour stand left of table). 
Wait until Aunt Lizzie arrives and he can add Kansas 
Cyclone to the list. 

And just then a shadow darkens the doormay. It 
resolves itself into an indigndnt individual xvlvose long 
coat is plentifully sprinkled with dust, whose hat is ai 
a rakish angle, wJiose hand frantically clutches a Bos- 
ton bag of huge dimensions, and whos-e general appear- 
ance resembles that of an avenging fury. ]Vith a 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 35 

scornful glance at the astounded company she delivers 
herself of one monosyllable — "well!" 

Natalie (running to her). Aunt Lizzie! Aunt Liz- 
zie! 

Mrs. D. (hurrying to her side). What has hap- 
pened ? 

Aunt Lizzie (pushing Mrs. Deering with her left 
hand.) Don't paw me, AHce. (Pushing Natalie aside 
with her right hand.) I'm in no kissing mood, NataHe. 
Don't ask this late in the day what has 'happened — for 
a tramp of a mile through the dust of your charming 
country roads is no incentive to amiability. (Eileen 
crosses back of chair right of table as Aunt Lizzie 
with Mrs. Deering and Natalie slowly advance.) 

Mrs. D. Lizzie! You don't mean to say that you 
walked? 

Aunt L. Was there anything ambiguous in my 
language? And does my appearance suggest an easy 
transit ? 

Seymour (pushing forward chair right of table). 
Won't you be seated.^ 

Aunt L. (as she seats herself). Take my bag, Ei- 
leen — and don't joggle it. My medicine is inside. 
(Eileen takes bag aw(i. Aunt Lizzie leans back in the 
chair. Suddenly she sits upright.) Young man, this 
chair squeaks! 

Tevis (hastily drawing out chair left of stairway). 
Then try this one. 

Mrs. D. (as Aunt Lizzie settles herself in the other 
chair). But, Lizzie — I don't understand. Didn't the 
car arrive in time to meet the train? (Stands at Aunt 
Lizzie's left.) 

Aunt L. A hired car arrived — and a strange chauf- 



36 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

feur. Since when is it your custom to greet guests in 
this fashion? 

Mrs. D. I'm sorry — so very sorry that it had to 
happen in this way. But our own chauffeur gave no- 
tice this morning — and left. 

Aunt L. The habit seems indigenous to the soil. 
For this other chauffeur brought me two-thirds of the 
way — and left. 

Mrs. D. Left? 

Aunt L. His speed was somewhat accelerated by 
the appearance of a masked horseman who pointed a 
pistol at our heads. 

Seymour. A highwayman.? 

Aunt. L. No — a plain hold-up. 

Natalie {ivlio is at her right). Why, Aunt Lizzie 
— here in broad daylight.? It's impossible! 

Aunt L. Am I in the habit of making equivocal 
statements, Natalie.? 

Natalie. Oh, I don't mean that. Aunt Lizzie! 

Aunt L. Or is it likely that I was the subject of 
an hallucination.? 

Natalie. Oh, you don't understand. I am trying 
to tell you that someone was doubtless playing a joke. 

Aunt L. To the tune of my pocket-book and watch.? 
Nonsense. 

Eileen. Was there much in your pocket-book.? 

Aunt L. Not enough to allow him to live in riot- 
ous extravagance. {Pauses.) And my watch was 
plated. 

Natalie. But the shock to your nerves — 

Aunt L. {severely). I have no nerves. Such a lux- 
ury belongs exclusively to modern times. 

Tevis {who stands at Natalie's right). The effron- 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 37 

tery of this fellow is amazing. To frequent a much- 
traveled highway — to terrorize women in this way — 

Aunt L. Terrorize? Young man, don't think for a 
moment that he even frightened me. Your sex — as a 
generality and as individuals — has long since ceased to 
impress me in any way. 

Seymour. Can you remember anything about his ap- 
pearance, Miss Deering? In case we attempt to trace 
him, a description would be useful. 

Aunt L. I always remember details. He wore some 
sort of a riding suit — the kind that requires the legs 
to be incased in strait jackets — 

Eileen {mischievously) . We call them riding boots, 
Aunt Lizzie. 

Aunt L. {with a scornful glance at Eileen). His 
soft hat was thrust in his pocket, his hair was dark, 
he wore gauntlet gloves, and over his face was tied a 
white handkerchief with a blue border. 

Seymour. How clever of you to notice these things. 
Now it will be much easier to trace him. 

Aunt L. There may be another mark of identifica- 
tion also. 

Seymour. What.^^ 

Aunt L. A limp. As he was mounting his horse I 
threw the chauffeur's monkey wrench at his head. It 
hit his foot. 

Mrs. D. {who has in the meantime touched the hell 
button). Give me Aunt Lizzie's bag, Eileen, and I'll 
show her to her room. (Eileen obeys. Lucy enters 
from dining room.) Lucy, take out the tea things and 
bring a cup of coffee and some sandwiches to Miss 
Deering. 

Lucy. Yes, Mrs. Deering. 

AuxT L. {as she and ^Irs. Deerin^^ mount the 



38 OUT OF THE STI LLNESS 

stairs). And have it strong, girL I'd rather drink 
dish water than weak coffee. 

(Lucy removes tea cart and goes out at dining room 
door.) 

Seymour (moving towards doorway). Come out for 
a game of tennis, Eileen. 

Eileen {sinking into chair right of table). Not 
much. I'm too exhilarated. Aunt Lizzie's effect on 
me is like that of champagne on an empty tummy. 

Seymour. What do you know about champagne, 
infant.? 

Eileen. Nothing. But I've heard telk (Seymour 
goes out doorway.") 

Natalie {as she and Tevis stroll slowly of stage 
at doorway). Oh, dear! In addition to our ghost and 
our German traitor, we now have a highwayman to 
worry about. 

Eileen {mockingly). And what can a Dresden 
shepherdess have to do with a highwayman! {Emphat- 
ically.) I wish that I had a chance at the highwayman. 
I'd show him that the modern girl can't be sent into 
hysterics by the mere point of a pistol. 

She moves restlessly about the room, restoring the 
chairs to their accustomed position. Finally she settles 
herself in the chair right of table and opens a book. 
For a few moments all is quiet — then the inexplicable 
sixth sense which informs one that her privacy has been 
invaded, causes her to look up. There in the open 
doorway stands the picturesque figure of a dashing 
youth, clad in a riding suit. In one hand he carries a 
riding crop; in the other, a soft crush hat. From his 
pocket protrudes a white handkerchief with a blue bor- 
der; and, as he starts across the room, he walks with 
a sJlgh\. limp. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 39 



For a moment Eileen gazes at him in amazement, 
then rises and throws up her hands as if in surrender. 
The newcomer {who will soon answer to the name of 
Jerry), returns the scrutiny with equal amazement. 

Jerry. I beg your pardon for this abrupt entrance. 
{As she backs away from him.) Great heavens ! I don't 
intend to hurt you. 

Eileen. Stand right there! 

Jerry. I'll do better than that— I'll go. {Turns.) 

Eileen. Not without an explanation. 

Jerry. That's easily given. The entrance to your 
grounds is so similar to that of my destination that I 
turned in, unthinkingly. I saw your open door — and 
thought I'd apologize. That's all. 

Eileen {coming nearer and whispering) . Are they 
after you? 

Jerry. I don't understand. 

Eileen. And would you like to hide.? 

Jerry. Hide? Why should I hide? 

Eileen {pointing). That suit! That handkerchief! 
Those boots! That hat! Those gauntlets! 

Jerry {looking at himself). Is it .as bad as all that? 

Eileen {severely). Don't try to evade the question. 
For I know. 

Jerry. Then, I fear, you have the advantage of me. 

Eileen. Unfortunately for you, it was my aunt at 
whose head you pointed your pistol, not two hours ago. 

Jerry. Did I have the nerve to do a thing like that ? 

Eileen. And whose watch and pocket-book you 
took. 

Jerry {smiling). Without so much as asking her 
pardon ? 

Eileen. Being a highwayman is no joking matter. 



40 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Jerry. Do you mind telling me why you think I'm 
the highwayman? 

Eileen (dramatically pointing). That suit! That 
handkerchief ! Those^boots ! That hat ! Those gauntlets ! 

Jerry (standing behind chair left of stairway). Oh, 
I begin to see through the mystery. Evidently the gen- 
tleman of the road has tastes similar to my own. We 
may even patronize the same tailor. 

Eileen (seizing him by the arm and dragging him 
to center). Hide — please hide. 

Jerry. I'll be hanged if I do ! 

Eileen. You'll be hanged if you don't. 

Jerry. The trying to escape is hardly worth while. 

Eileen. The3^'d never think of looking for you here. 

Jerry. Why are you so interested in my welfare? 

Eileen (haughtily). I should show the same inter- 
est in any hunted creature. 

Jerry. Even a desperate criminal? 

Eileen. Oh zchy did you choose a life of crime? 

Jerry. The excitement — the uncertainty — the risk 
of it all. Imagine what it is^ to plan — to scheme — to 
watch — to wait — to feel the tingling pulse of adven- 
ture — to listen to the siren voice of the road — to know 
that on your own wit, your own nerve, your own quick- 
ness depends your safety! (Pauses. )Why, there's noth- 
ing in the world can equal it ! 

Eileen. But — robbery ! 

Jerry. Why not — in the open? Most of your friends, 
shut up in a conventional office, are probably doing the 
same thing — on the quiet. 

Eileen. Haven't you ever had any desire to reform ? 

Jerry. Not unless such a course would prove advan- 
tageous to me. Would it? 

Eileen. It would at least be respectable. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 41 

Jerry. Respectability is often — deadly. 

Eileen. But it's — respectable. 

Jerry. And only the personal equation would make 
it endurable. 

Eileen. What do you mean by the personal equa- 
tion? 

Jerry. Well — in the case of reform — the reformer. 

Eileen. Wliat do you think about reformers.'^ 

Jerry. Well — that depends somewhat upon the re- 
former. 

Eileen {impetuously), I've always wanted a crim- 
inal of my own — 

Jerry. What? 

Eileen. To reform, of course. 

Jerry. Try me. 

Eileen. You mean it.^^ 

Jerry. Rather. 

Eileen. I won't reform in any half way fashion 

Jerry. Who wants a half baked respectability? 

Eileen. And you may not care to take the discip- 
line. 

Jerry. A highwayman is accustomed to take — most 
anything, isn't he? 

Eileen. Then — it's a bargain? {Holds out hand.) 

Jerry {taking it). It is. {Pauses.) Do you mind 
telling me how you intend to go about it? 

Eileen {crossing to table). I hadn't thought of 
that. 

Jerry. For, you see, I'm likely to be tangled in the 
meshes of the law while I am taking your course in 
respectability. 

Eileen {suddenly) . Can you drive a car? 

Jerry {crossing, to her). With one hand — and my 
eyes shut. 



42 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Eileen. Then — be chauffeur! 

Jerry. Your chauffeur.'^ 

Eileen. Our chauffeur. We're looking for one. 
What shall I call you.? 

Jerry (after a moment). How will Jerry do.'^ 

Eileen. Fine ! 

Jerry (bowing). Then — Jerry at your service. 

Eileen. First of all, get rid of that suit. And if 
Aunt Lizzie spies that hat, that handkerchief — 

Jerry (laughingly). Those boots and those gaunt- 
lets— 

Eileen. She'll upset our plans. 

Jerry. Unfortunately, I haven't a chauffeur's uni- 
form — on tap, so to speak. 

Eileen. But we have. Ask the gardener to show 
you the chauffeur's room. (Pauses.) No — best not to 
let anybody see you. (Hastily draws him to doorway.) 
It's the front room — over the garage. (Points off 
stage.) 

Jerry. Trust me to find it. 

Eileen. And I hope the suit fits. 

Jerry. So do I. Better a spruce highwayman than 
a slipshod chauffeur. 

Eileen. Hurry! Someone might come. 

Jerry (bending over her hand). Adieu, fair advo- 
cate of reform 1 When I next greet you, I shall have 
been transformed by your magic touch into the grim 
semblance of conventionality, respectability and a steer- 
ing wheel! 

And, at this impressive moment, Marion appears on 
the stairway. 

Marion. Eileen! 

Eileen (as she starts away from Jerry). Dear me, 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 43 



Marion— how you startled me! (Haughtily to Jerry.) 
That will do, Jerry. (And Jerry disappears.) 

Marion. Who is that? 

Eileen. Our new chauffeur. 

Marion. Where did you get him? 

Eileen. Didn't I tell you that Bess Roberts has 
been trying to find some one to adopt her chauffeur for 
the summer? 

Marion (crossing to her). Did you telephone her? 

Eileen. I said I would— didn't I ? (Crosses to stair- 
way.) 

Marion. Well, that man has made double quick time 
from the city. What was he saying that made you as 
red as a peony? 

Eileen (on stairway). Saying? Marion, what could 

he say? 

Marion. A great many things. If the fellow is un- 
couth, Eileen, I'll dismiss him. 

Eileen. Indeed you won't! He is — perfectly — all 
right. (Runs up the stairway.) 

(Marion walks to the doorway and stands there list- 
lessly for a few moments. Then, coming back slowly, 
she seats herself at one end of the broad window seat. 
For a time she is busy with her own thoughts; suddenly, 
she gazes intently out the window and then leans for- 
zvard. ) 

Marion. Mr. Blair.! (After a moment.) I feel that 
I should apologize for luring you here with promise of 
a sunset which has failed to materialize. 

Blair (appearing from without). Why hold your- 
self responsible for nature's caprices? Anyway— there 
are always other sunsets. 

Marion. That's a pretty philosophy. 



44 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 



Blair. And the paler tints of the aftermath are 
often more appeaHng than the more gorgeous coloring. 

Marion. Won't you sit here for a while.? Perhaps 
nature will relent and send us a substitute. 

Blair (as he seats himself at the other end of the 
seat). I doubt if she could send us anything loveHer 
than the peace, the quiet and the serenity of the present 
moment. 

Marion. Do you feel that way about it.? To me 
it's the most beautiful part of the day — and yet the 
very hush seems filled with a thousand voices if we could 
only hear and understand. 

Blair (lapsing into brogue). Faith and it's the 
fairies that are weavin' their spell about ye — and the 
fairy music that is sweepin' the treetops — and the 
fairy voices that are whisperin' to ye! 

Marion. Only an Irishman can talk like that! 

Blair. And bein' an Irishman, the mother country 
has put the flame of patriotism into his soul, the witch- 
ery of her brogue upon his tongue — the love of a 
beautiful woman within his heart — 

Marion (slily). And the touch of the Blarney stone 
upon his lips ! 

Blair. And, faith, what is the Blarney stone but a 
bit of an excuse for sayin' what otherwise a man would 
never dare to utter.? 

Marion. Why are you Irishmen so different from 
other people.? 

Blair. Because the spirit of romance never quite 
dies within us — because we are never too weary, too old 
or too heartsick to feel the breath of adventure upon 
our cheeks, to break away from the commonplace of the 
everyday — and to follow the twisting, beckoning, sil- 
very gleam of the Road that Leads to Nowhere! 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 45 

Marion. Somebody has told me that you are a sci- 
entist. I know better — you're a poet! 

Blair {dropping his brogue). Not guilty. And, 
after that accusation, I'll forget the Irish part of me 
which sends my heads into the clouds and come back to 
America — where I belong. 

Marion. Then you're not Irish .^ 

Blair. Oh, yes I am — by birth. But my American 
father and my Irish mother saw fit to rear me in the 
land of the Stars and Stripes — so I count myself an 
American. 

Marion. You love your adopted country.^ 

Blair. So well that I fought for her. (Rises.) 

Marion. Then you were in the war.^^ 

Blair. Yes. 

Marion (half to herself). And you came back — 
safe. 

Blair. Safe — but changed. One cannot forget — 
war. 

Marion. Nor forgive. 

Blair. You have lost someone.'* 

Marion. My brother. 

Blair. A glorious death. 

Marion. But — death. 

Blair. That is as one chooses to believe. (Stands 
by her.) 

Marion. What do 3^ou mean.? 

Blair. Only that two people who have truly loved 
cannot be separated. 

Marion. My brother and I were very dear to each 
other — but I think of him only as — gone. 

Blair. Then you have willed it so. 

Marion. I, don't understand. 

Blair. ^lay I tell you my own story .'^ 



46 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Marion. Please. {He seats himself as before.) 

Blair. My best friend was killed — over there. For 
days I did not sleep — I saw only the torment, the 
horror, the unspeakable cruelty of everything — {hesi- 
tates). 

Marion. Yes ? 

Blair. Then one day — I don't know how or why 
— I understood. I realized that there were other ways 
of suffering — ways that helped; and with a great 
emerging breath I came to a height from which I saw 
all differently — even the death of the one who had been 
my closest friend. 

Marion. Siich a realization would mean much 
to me. 

Blair. Because it would bring with it the conscious- 
ness that your brother is near — in spirit. 

Marion. I don't believe — I don't want that sort of 
nearness. 

Blair. Don't misunderstand me — for I am think- 
ing of a spiritualism of soul which lifts us and satisfies 
us — and is in accord not only with our reason but with 
the traditions of our aspirations after faith and phi- 
losophy. {Pauses.) I fear I have tired you with 
my dissertation. {Rises.) 

Marion. On the contrary, you've helped me very 
much — and I thank you. {Rises.) 

Blair. Perhaps you will permit me to come again 
— very soon .'^ 

Marion. We are all hoping that you will. {As he 
takes her hand.) Good bye. {He disappears.) 



Marion crosses and seats herself right of table. | 
Bobby appears in doorway and stands looking intently 
off stage for a moment. Then he runs to Marion. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 47 

Bobby {perching on the right arm of the chair). 
Who is the strange man, Aunt Marion? 

Marion. Our next door neighbor, Bobby. (Draws 
him to her*) * 

Bobby. He caught me up and held me very close 
to him — and I think he likes me. We can always tell 
when people like us, can't we. Aunt Marion? 

Marion. Always. {Pauses.) Has it been a happy 
birthday, dear? 

Bobby. As happy as it could be — without father. 
{Wistfully.) It's pretty hard for a fellow to grow up 
without a father — isn't it? 

Marion. Don't — Bobby. 

Bobby. Sometimes I feel that if I turn around 
quickly, he'll be there — laughing at me. And, then 
sometimes, I think I hear his whistle. Listen, Aunt 
Marion, I can do it! {Whistles.) 

Marion. Try it again, Bobby. {After the second 
effort.) That's better. 

Bobby. Don't you think he must be near us, today, 
Aunt Marion? Today — when I'm ten years old? 

Marion. For the first time, Bobby, I feel that he is ! 

Bobby {jumping down). I'm going now. I just 
ran in for a moment — to keep you from being lone- 
some. 

Marion {as she hisses him). Then, hurry back, 
dear, for I'm not going to be lonesome — any more. 
{He runs off stage through doorway.) 

{For a time there is perfect silence as she sits en- 
grossed in her thoughts. Suddenly — clear, distinct 
and close at hand comes a whistle — Bob's whistle. She 
lays down her book — in bewilderment . In a moment 
the whistle is repeated. She starts to her feet.) 

The Voice {in the vicinity of the doorway). Sis 



48 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

— dear old sis — do you think a little thing like death 
can separate us? 

Marion. Oh ! Oh! 

The Voice (noziD in the vicinity of the stairway). 
I've waited so long for you to understand — for you to 
call me — ^but you wouldn't — you wouldn't — (Marion 
still stands stupefied — silent). Can't you see me, Marion? 
Don't you know me? 

Marion {silence for a moment — then she goes 
forward mth outstretched hands). Oh Bob — Bob! 

Curtain. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

The Second Act. 
Scene: Again the hall of the Deering home; and 
this time, the audience faces the stairway, which is 
at center of back stage. Right of the stairway is 
the piano; to its left is a small door {hidden by the 
stairway in Act I.) To the right of this door hangs 
a piece of tapestry. The window seat- is now at the 
left of stage as is the open doorway; while, down left 
is the dining room door, the telephone stand and 
chair, and the small table. The table is down right 
and the large chair near by is now turned and facing 
audience. The hassock is at center; the chair left of 
stairway is drawn further back; and the chair to right 
of doorway remains the same. The small cJmir remains 
at left of table. 

The curtain rises to music off stage. Against the 
right of the doorway leans Jerry, apparently lost m 
thought. Lucy enters from dining room, bearing tray 
of punch glasses. As she spies him, she hesitates, then 
crosses room and places tray upon table. 

Lucy (softly). Jerry! (No answer.) Jerry! (Still 
no response.) Jerry! (And Lucy's tone becomes not 
only louder but a trifle sharp.) 

Jerry. I beg your pardon. Did you speak.? 

Lucy. Only three times. 

Jerry (lightly). Three times and the charm, 

you know. 

Lucy. Then it must have broken the charm. Were 

you star-gazing? 

Jerry. One might call it that, I suppose. 

49 



50 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Lucy (sai'casficalb/). Star-gazing — without look- 
ing at the sky ! 

Jerry. Tliero are earthly stars, too, you know. 
{Half to h'nunt'lf.) And they're often farther away 
than the heavenly ones. 

LrcY. I don't understand you, Jerry. 

Jerry. The highest compliment you can pay me. 

Lucy. And you don't talk a bit like a chauffeur. 

Jerry. Meaning that my vocabulary should reek 
with such terms as carburetors, cylinders and spark 
plugs.? 

LrcY. I mean that you might at least be friendly- 
like. {With a toss of Jur head.) The last chauffeur 
didn't need dynamite to wake him up ! 

Jerry {indifcn^ntJif). Sorry that I don't qualify. 

Lucy {aftt'r a pause). Did you ever hear love- 
lier music.' 

Jerry. I haven't been listening. 

Lucy {coming closer). I love to dance. Don't you.? 

Jerry. Depends. 

Lucy. And — wouldn't it be heavenly — out there — 
under the moonlight.' 

Jerry (carelessh/). Looks as if it might rain. 

Lucy {flouncing off to center). What you need 
is a book on manners, ^Ir. Chauffeur — 

Jerry. I liaven't time for the superficial at present, 
my dear Lucy. I'm too busy keeping track of my 
morals. 

Lucy. Don't call me your dear Lucy. {Coquet- 
tishli/.) 

Jerry. Just as you say. I used the term only 
after your suggestion that my manners were not all 
they should be. 

Lucy {angrili/). Well, now I a in going. {Crosses 
and take.<i her trai/.) 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 



51 



Jerry {cheerfully). Well, we've had a pleasant 
little chat, haven't we? 

Lucy {as she dashes past him through the door- 
icai/). Too pleasant to last! {Goes off.) 

Jerry laughs to himself, theii suddenly bends for- 
ward and becomes intent upon som-eone — or something 
— in his range of vision. The someone proves to be 
Eileen. 

{as she comes through the doorway). 



ElLEEX 

Well? 
Jerry. 
Eileen 



^\ ell— what? 
You've been standing here and staring at 
me for the last half hour. 

Jerry {following her into the room). Can't a crim- 
inal look at his reformer? 

Eileen. Jerrv ! You're lauorhino-! 
Jerry. For sheer happiness. 

And you're not to speak of yourself as a 



Eileen 
criminal. 
Jerry. 
Eileen 

3 



I keep forgetting that I am — cured. 
{anxiously). But you are cured — aren't 



you 

Jerry. 

Eileen 

Jerry. 



Absolutely. 

And in just three weeks. 
Three weeks to a day. What correspond- 
ence course can beat that? 

Eileen. Would you have reformed — without me? 
Jerry. Xever. 

Eileen. You've done it all — for me? 
Jerry {slipping his arm around her). For you. 
I'd do most anvthino; — for vou. 

F.ii.iiiL-s . (making no effort to move away from 
him). Jerrr — you're too familiar. 



52 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Jerry. But the treatment of the case promised 
that you would let me be your equal — didn't it? 

Eileen. Yes — but — 

Jerry. Then that's why I — dare. 

Eileen. You'll never go back to the road? 

Jerry. Not while I have my good angel to hold me 
back. 

Eileen {moving away from him). But I'm not 
an angel, Jerry. Aunt Lizzie says I'm the other thing. 

Jerry. Aunt Lizzie doesn't know everything. 

Eileen. And she's never recognized you — that's 
one comfort. (Sighs.) Jerry? 

Jerry. Yes ? 

Eileen. Does the old life ever tempt you? 

Jerry. It might — on a night like this. 

Eileen. How ? 

Jerry. The long stretch of country road — the 
friendly shade of the trees — the thrill — the suspense — 
the excitement — can't you understand? 

Eileen (rushing to him). Oh, Jerry, don't do it — 
don't do it! 

Jerry. Then help me to forget the lure of it all. 

Eileen. Help you? How? 

Jerry. Dance with me — out there under the trees 
— in the moonlight — Just the two of us! 

Eileen. But that limp ! 

Jerry (walking toward right). Don't bother about 
that. It's mine' for keeps. 

Eileen. For keeps? Can a chauffeur's monkey 
wrench do all that damage? 

Jerry. Monkey wrench? It was an Argonne bul- 
let. 

Eileen. You were in the war? 

Jerry. Well — rather. Why do you look so sur- 
prised ? 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 53 

Eileen. A highmayman in the war! 

Jerry. That's where I learned my job. Pointing 
pistols at Kamerads who held up their ha^nds without 
any urging has come to be a habit. 

Eileen. Really, Jerry.? 

Jerry (coming close to her). Are you coming 
with me? 

Eileen (in a whisper). Why not.? 

And they dance slowly out of the open doorway and 
into the yard beyond. Hardly has the last strain of 
the music died away, when Aunt Lizzie enters from the 
dining room, followed by an evidently harassed Mrs. 
Deering. 

Mrs. D. But, Lizzie — times have changed — 

Aunt L. And evidently morals have changed. 
(Sits in chair by table.) Sometimes I wonder if they 
haven't disappeared along with the good old-fashioned 
dresses that had skirts and necks. 

Mrs. D. (sitting in chair by telephone). Fashion 
sets a certain standard — you cannot expect a girl to 
ignore it. 

Aunt L. And modesty, like heavy stockings and 
turkey tail fans has gone out of style. (Grimly.) I 
see. 

Mrs. D. It isn't so bad as all that; it's merely an- 
other viewpoint. See how differently even the older 
women dress. 

Aunt L. I'm seeing all right. If I didn't know 
your age, Alice, and had to judge from your clothes 
— (hesitates). 

Mrs. D. Well.? 

Aunt L. I should Infer that, as yet, you had not 
reached the years of discretion. 



54 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Mrs. D. (on the defensive). A woman should 
look as well as she can — 

Ai?NT L. But not as young as she can. Great 
heavens, Alice, the Lord gives us wrinkles to show that 
our souls have grown — that we're not cases of arrested 
development. Why should you wish to wipe out all 
traces of human experience.'^ 

Mrs. D. It is not necessary to discuss the matter 
further. (Rises.) Shall we go back to the dancing .^^ 

Aunt L. And watch the younger generation cut- 
ting a lot of silly capers to music? I prefer to stay 
here. 

Mrs. D. Just as you wish, of course. 

Aunt L. (abruptly/). Did you bring all the sil- 
ver and the jewels with you from the city.^^ 

Mrs. D. Practically all. 

Aunt L. That was foohsh. 

Mrs. D. Not when you consider the fact that we 
are expecting to entertain a great deal. 

Aunt L. Have you a safe.^^ 

Mrs. D. Of course. And it is well hidden. 

Aunt L. Where.? 

Mrs. D. In a small room off there. (Points to 
door left of stairway.) The door is hardly discernible; 
we always keep it locked; and only the members of 
the family know where the key is hidden. 

Aunt L. On an occasion of this kind, with all doors 
and windows open, pillaging would be quite a tempta- 
tion to any wandering tramp. 

Mrs. D. You're thinking of your highwayman. 

Aunt L. I'm thinking of nobody in particular. 

Mrs. D. And nobody in particular is thinking of 
us. The location of the safe is secret. 

Aunt L. A secret shared is no longer a secret. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 55 

Mrs. D. Except when it is shared only by members 
of the same family. 

Aunt L. Sometimes, members of the same family 
become indiscreet. 

Mrs. D. Even granting that — one's friends are 
usually to be trusted. 

Aunt L. I shouldn't care to trust all of yours. 
{Sharply.) Who is this latest addition to your house 
party.? 

Mrs. D. Alfred Tevis' sister — Cecile. She is 
charming. 

Aunt L. She tries to be. How did you happen to 
invite her.'^ 

Mrs. D. She was visiting near by — Alfred men- 
tioned it — 

Aunt L. Yes — of course he did — 

Mrs. D. So we asked her for the week-end. 

As Eileen appears at doorway. 

Mrs. D. Eileen — why aren't you dancing? {Crosses 
to center.) 

Eileen. I have been. 

Mrs. D. Where is your partner.? 

Eileen {carelessly). How should I know.? {Sits 
on arm of chair right of doorway.) I came out in the 
yard to remind Jerry that I want the car at seven- 
thirty tomorrow morning. 

Mrs. D. You could have chosen another time to 
deliver the message. 

Eileen. But I didn't. (To Aunt Lizzie.) Want 
to drive with me, Aunt Lizzie.? You'll be the only one 
up at that time. 

Aunt L. Drive with you? I'd rather shoot the 
chutes. 

Eil:?en. Jerry says I'm a wonder. 



56 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Aunt L. Then he is a misguided young man. 

Mrs. D. (standing back of Aunt Lizzie's chair). 
But a splendid chauffeur. Let him drive you, Lizzie. 
You'll enjoy it. 

Eileen. He'd scare you to death, Aunt Lizzie. 

Mrs. D. Nonsense ! He's exceedingly careful. 

Aunt L. Is there any reason that I should not 
meet this Jerry — or whatever you call him.'^ 

Mrs. D. I don't understand. 

Aunt L. Well, perhaps Eileen does. She's always 
on hand when I try to communicate with him. 

Eileen. You do imagine the queerest things. Aunt 
Lizzie. 

Aunt L. Imagine nothing! Yesterday I asked 
him to stop the car and get a flower for me — out 
popped Eileen before he could make a move ; then I 
addressed a few questions to him — which Eileen an- 
swered; and when I tried to sit by him on the return 
journey, I was unceremoniously bundled into the ton- 
neau. 

Mrs. D. Eileen was doubtless looking out for your 
comfort, Lizzie. 

Eileen. Of course. (Crosses to right of stage.) 

Mrs. D. For what other motive could there be.'' 
(As Jerry passes the doorway.) Jerry! Will you 
come here for a moment? (Jerry entefs.) Tomor- 
row, you will take the small car and drive into the 
city. I have a number of errands for you. At two, 
we'll say. 

Jerry. Yes, Mrs. Deering. 

Aunt L. (who has been eagerly scanning him). 
Young man, I've seen you before. 

Jerry (very respectfully). I have been Mrs. Deer- 
ing's chauffeur ever since your arrival. 



OUT OF THE STILLNE SS 57 

AtTNT L. I've seen you somewhere before my ar- 
rivaL 

Jerry. Perhaps I have driven for some of your 
friends. 

Aunt L. And perhaps you haven't. I can't place 
you now — but it will come to me. Those things al- 
ways do. 

Enter Marion and Seymour from dining room, fol- 
lowed by Tom and Bess. 

Marion. Tom and Bess are hunting for you, 
mother. {As Jerry starts to leave.) Wait a mo- 
ment, Jerry. {Crosses to front of stairway, as Jerry 
moves to right of stage and Eileen stands by table.) 

Mrs. D. {crossing to Tom and Bess who stand at 
left of stage). Surely you're not saying goodnight 
already. 

Tom. Oh, but we are — much to our regret. 

Bess. You see, the Aliens who are farther up the 
road, are having a dance to night — so they made us 
promise to share the evening. 

Seymour {who is standing by the telephone). Driv- 
ing back to town after the dance? 

Tom. Sure. Business in the morning — and all 
that. 

Seymour. Better beware of the highwayman. 

Tom. I'm ready for him. Revolver right here. 
{Patting his pocket.) 

Bess. And I'll hide my pearls in the tool box. He'll 
never think of looking for them there. 

Marion. Bess — here's Jerry. {Motions to Jerry.) 

Bess {puzzled), I don't believe that I know — 
Jerry. 

Marion. Your own chauffeur whom you transferred 
to us.? 



58 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Bess. My chauffeur! I never saw the man before 
in all my life. 

Marion. But Eileen said — 

Eileen {wildly). Bess did tell me that she wanted 
a place for her chauffeur. 

Bess. Of course I did. But, after that, we de- 
cided to stay home during the summer, and naturally 
kept him. 

Marion. But, Eileen — you said that you tele- 
phoned. 

Jerry {standing by Eileen). Pardon me. Miss 
Deering, but I think I can explain. The fault is en- 
tirely mine. When I applied for the position. Miss 
Eileen asked if I w^ere the chauffeur whom she had en- 
gaged — and I said I tvas. She took me. 

Bess. But, Eileen — you never even said that you 
wanted our chauffeur. 

Eileen. Oh, yes, I did, Bess — you've just forgot- 
ten. (Aside to Jerry in a whisper.) Thank you, 
Ananias. 

Jerry {whispering hack). Don't mention it, Sap- 
phira. 

Mrs. D. I am sorry that you obtained your posi- 
tion under false pretenses, Jerry. 

Jerry {smiling). But you'll let me stay.? You 
see, I really want the job. 

Mrs. D. You may stay for the present. (Jerry 
hows and goes out doorway.) 

Bess {as she looks after him). And to think that 
you confused him with my good old John who is fifty, 
cross-eyed, and has a wart on his nose. 

Tom {seizing her arm). Off you go, after that 
remark. Susceptible girls aren't to be trusted when 
good looking chauffeurs are about. Goodnight, Mrs. 
Deering — it's been a bully party— 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 59 

Bess. And we hate to tear ourselves away. Good- 
night, Miss Lizzie — goodnight, Byrne — and Marion. 
Goodnight Eileen. 

Eileen. Mother and I will go out with you. 
{Joins Mrs. D. and together with Tom and Bess they 
pass out dining roorn door.) 

Marion. Tired, Aunt Lizzie .? 

Aunt L. I'm tired of all this foolishness. {Joins 
Marion at stairway.) 

Marion. Surely you're not going to bed. 

Aunt L. Why not? It's bed time. 

Marion. Then let me come along and have a quiet 
little chat with you. Byrne won't mind the separa- 
tion. 

Aunt L. Not tonight, my dear. Anyway, I fancy 
that your young man needs you more than I do. Good- 
night. 

Marion. Goodnight, Aunt Lizzie. 

Aunt L. {half way up the stairs), Marion, does 
that young Jerry limp? 

Marion. Just a little. It's hardly noticeable. 
Why? 

Aunt L. I just wanted to know — that's all. 
{Goes up stairs.) 

Seymour. Marion — where's Jane? 

Marion {sitting by table). Gone to the city. 
She left on the noon train. 

Seymour. What's the trouble? 

Marion. No trouble at all. The literary light 
w^ho wishes her to illustrate his book desired a con- 
ference. 

Seymour {sitting by telephone). Then I suppose 
I'll have to wait. {Sighs.) 

Marion. I don't see any other way out of it. 
What's your trouble? 



60 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Seymour (dramatically). Genius is simmering! 

Marion. You mean — the picture? 

Seymour. The picture. I have it in my mind, 
Marion, the great glorious plan of it — but I need 
Jane's help in evolving the details. 

Marion. Is Jane as necessary as all that? 

Seymour. Jane's the best sort of a fellow — never 
too busy to listen. Often she notices the very points 
which I have overlooked. 

Marion. I'd express it more generously, Byrne. In 
fact, I'd say that Jane's whimsical fancy as well as her 
unfailing instinct, fans your spark of genius into a 
flame. (Pause.) You don't like that, do you? 

Seymour. No man likes to be told that he owes his 
genius to a woman. 

Marion. On the other hand, every man, at some 
time or other, realizes that behind his truest achieve- 
ment there is a woman's inspiration. 

Seymour. Perhaps you think that I have no — 
genius. 

Marion. I know that you have it. But, I still say 
that Jane is a potent factor in developing it. 

Seymour. I've never taken Jane that seriously. 

Marion. None of us has taken Jane seriously. We 
all accept the time, the interest, the sympathy and the 
understanding which she so generously gives — without 
a thought of its real value. 

Seymour. Jane is the best kind of a friend — and 
she's meant a lot to me. 

Marion. Indeed she has. In those long, feverish 
Art League days, you would have given up the strug- 
gle if it hadn't been for her, wouldn't you? 

Seymour. Undoubtedly. 

Marion. And in the first glory of your success, 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 61 

she planned and schemed for j^ou as no other would 
have done. 

Seymour. Good old pal ! 

Marion. Even three weeks ago when you would 
have yielded to the depression which was slowly sap- 
ping your ambition, she — figuratively speaking — 
forced the palette into your hand. 

Seymour {seriously). She did. 

Marion. And now — when you are on the eve of 
painting your new picture, your great picture — when 
you are once more your old, enthusiastic, aspiring self 
— you turn to Jane. 

Seymour. I've never thought of it in exactly that 
way. 

Marion (rising). Oh, the blindness of you men 
— the supreme egotism! You won't understand — you 
won't. (Stands back of chair.) 

Seymour. But, Marion, I've been a good friend to 
Jane — it isn't altogether one-sided. 

Marion. Of course you've been a good friend — 
you're a good friend to all of us. You'd protect us 
in every way you could; you'd never hesitate to do 
anything we ask. In fact, you should wear armor 
instead of broadcloth and should carry a lance instead 
of a palette. 

Seymour. Well — what of it.? 

Marion. Did you ever stop to think that the dash- 
ing knight while he was ostentatiously and theatrically 
rescuing the maiden, sometimes failed to give her — 
just what she wanted.? 

Seymour (rising). I don't understand you, Marion. 

Marion. Then I shall change my figure of speech 
and become art critic — if you don't mind. 

Seymour. Why should I mind.? 

Marion. Your work is exquisite, Byrne — it is al- 



62 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

most faultless — it is perfect in coloring, symmetry and 
technique. 

Seymour. Do you really feel that way about it, 
Marion ? 

Marion (sitting on arm of chair), I do. But — 

Seymour (crossing to her). Why spoil it with a 
but? 

Marion. Your pictures lack soul. And there is 
only one way to supply the soul. 

Seymour. And that.^^ 

Marion. Love. 

Seymour. Love — of a woman? 

Marion. Of a woman. When you find that, Byrne, 
your brush will be a magic one. 

Seymour. Where shall I find the woman to work 
this miracle.'^ 

Marion. That is for you to discover. 

Seymour. Perhaps, in you, Marion. 

Marion. In me? Don't turn this heart to heart 
talk into a jest, Byrne. 

Seymour. You could give me that inspiration. 

Marion (almost harshly). I could give you — noth- 
ing. 

Seymour. Don't say that, Marion. 

Marion. But it is true — oh so very true. In your 
work I'd be an outsider, because — 

Seymour. Because — what.? 

Marion. Let's give the whimsical turn to it, Byrne. 
Because I'm not equal to wrestling with the artistic 
temperament three hundred and sixty-five days in the 
year! 

Seymour. Marion! 

Marion. Anymore than you could stand my mad- 
deningly practical characteristics. It's too funny to 
talk about ! 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 63 

Seymour (turning aside). It doesn't seem funny 
to me. 

Marion. It will when you think about it seriously. 
(Slips an arm about his neck). Let's not spoil our 
good friendship at this late date, Byrne, and anyway — 
(hesitates). 

Seymour. Yes.^ 

Marion. I'm going to help you find your inspira- 
tion. (Lightly after a moment.) Time for us to 
wander back, isn't it? Poor Mr. Tevis is to be bur- 
dened with my inappreciative self, during the next 
dance. (Crosses to left.) 

Seymour. And his sister falls to me. 

Marion. The fair Cecile! She is what Eileen 
would call — a vanquishing vamp. Speaking of Eileen, 
this chauffeur affair worries me. She knew all along 
that Jerry had not been in Bess Roberts' employ. 

Seymour. The ways of Eileen — like those of 
providence — are past finding out. 

Bobby at door, 

Marion. He seems a quiet, gentlemanly fellow — 
but — (as Bobby enters at dining room door). Look- 
ing for me, Bobby boy.^ 

Bobby. Not this time. Aunt Marion. (Import- 
antly.) Mr. Blair is going to meet me here. 

Marion. Dear me, how important you are! What 
is the cause of this conference.? 

Bobby. Nothing special. We just want to talk. 

Marion. You and Mr. Blair are great friends, 
aren't you.'^ 

Bobby (patting her hand). Next to you, Aunt 
Marion, he's my best friend. 

Marion. Then he has a lot to live up to! 

Marion and Seymour pajss out dining room door. 



64 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Bobby runs to hack of stage. Blair, without seeing 
him, appears at doorway and seats himself at table. 
Bobby tiptoes behind him and places his hands over 
Blair's eyes. 

Blair. Help ! The highwayman ! 

Bobby (running to Blair's left). Did you really 
think it was the highwayman, Mr. Blair.? 

Blair. To be quite frank, Bobby, I had my sus- 
picions. You can't tell about highwaymen these days. 
.Bobby (pulling the hassock to Blair's left and 
seating himself). I thought you'd never come. 

Blair. Unfortunately, one cannot, at will, disre- 
gard the rights of a dancing partner. 

Bobby. Why — unfortunately .? 

Blair. That's one of the things you will learn when 
you grow up. 

Bobby. Girls don't bother me. 

Blair. A safe and sane slogan — stick to it. 

Bobby. For when I grow up, I intend to marry 
Aunt Marion. 

Blair. Oh — do you? Suppose some other fellow 
gets ahead of you. 

Bobby. She'll never like anyone as well as she likes 
me. 

Blair. But you may change your mind. There 
are all kinds of girls, you know. 

Bobby. Are there? I thought there were only two 
kinds. 

Blair. And what are the two kinds, old man? 

Bobby. The girls men like and the girls they don't. 

Blair (laughing). Where did you get your worldly 
wisdom ? 

Bobby. Why — I just know — that's all. (Pauses.) 
Say, Mr. Blair, when are we going fishing? 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 65 

Blair. Well — let's say — day after tomorrow. 

Bobby. Bully! 

Blair. And this time I think we'll camp out all 
night. 

Bobby. Honest,? 

Blair. Honest to goodness. Aunt Marion will 
trust you to me, I think. 

Bobby. Course she will. Will there be a camp 
fire? 

Blair. How else can we cook our meals? 

Bobby. And shall we sleep on the ground? 

Blair. Sure thing. We're going to be real camp- 
ers. Rifles by our sides and all that. 

Bobby. But there aren't really any Indians about. 

Blair. We can pretend, can't we? 

Bobby (ecstatically). You just understand every- 
thing, Mr. Blair. (Puts his hand on Blair's). Some- 
times, I think you're just like father. 

Blair (drawing Bobby to him). That's just what I 
want to be, old fellow. 

Bobby. We've had a jolly time together, haven't 
we? 

Blair. The j oiliest time in the world. 

Bobby. And I'm going to miss- you dreadfully when 
you go away. Why don't you stay here always? 

Blair. I wish I could. 

Bobby. It's a bully place, even if the old German 
did live here. 

Blair. Have you ever wondered just where that 
old German kept all the important papers and docu- 
ments he was stealing from the United States? 

Bobby. Why, he'd keep them in a safe, wouldn't 
he? 

Blair. I wonder. Wouldn't a little room all to 
itself be better? 



66 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Bobby. But there isn't any little room all to itself. 

Blair. Are you sure.^ 

Bobby (excitedly). Yes there is, too. (Jumps 
up and runs to back of Stage.) Off here. (Points to 
door.) It's square, and has little windows way up at 
the top, so that nobody can look in. 

Blair (following him). But couldn't a person crawl 
into the window .^^ 

Bobby. Not much. Why the windows aren't big- 
ger than this. (Measures.) 

Blair. Do you use this room for a playhouse.^ 

Bobby. No sir. The safe's in there. 

Blair. The safe? 

Bobby. And the door is always locked. 

Blair. That's interesting. 

Bobby. Nobody but the family is supposed to know 
where the key is kept. 

Blair. The key? 

Bobby. But I know. One day I saw mother hang- 
ing it up. Where do you think it is.^ 

Blair. I could never guess. 

Bobby. Just behind the edge of that tapestry up 
there. Even when you're ever so close you can't see. 
(Whistle sounds off stage.) Listen! That means 
Jerry has found my kite. He was to whistle if he 
came across it. 

Blair. Then run right along and don't mind me. 
(As Bobby runs to doorway.) And Bobby.'' 

Bobby (turning). Yes, Mr. Blair. 

Blair. Will you tell Jerry that I'd like to see him 
for just a moment .^^ 

Bobby. Sure. (Goes out doorway.) 

(Blair quickly crosses to tapestry, raises corner and 
looks closely. He then takes paper and pencil from 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 67 

his pocket and writes busily for a few moments. Jerry 
appears at doorway.) 

Jerry. You wish to see me, sir? 

Blair. Just for a moment, Jerry. (Pauses.) Are 
jou on duty this evening .^^ 

Jerry. Quite free, sir. 

Blair. You could go to the station for me — and 
send this telegram .^^ 

Jerry. I am not at liberty to take the car, Mr. 
Blair. 

Blair. I see. 

Jerry. But I can use Miss Eileen's saddle horse. 

Blair. She wouldn't object? 

Jerry. I'm sure she wouldn't. 

Blair. This is an important message and I am 
anxious to send it tonight. For various reasons, I 
can't go myself. 

Jerry. I will be glad to take it, sir. 

Blair (as he hands the paper). I may trust you to 
regard this errand as a confidential one? 

Jerry. You may, sir. 

Blair. And to make no mention of the message? 

Jerry. I'll be quite prudent, Mr. Blair. 

Blair. Thank you. It is needless for me to add 
that this is a 7'eal favor. (Jerry bows and withdraws.) 

Marion enters from dining room almost immediately. 

Marion. Why I thought Bobby was here with you. 

Blair {meeting her). I'm deserted. And all on ac- 
count of a chauffeur's whistle. Act as substitute, won't 
you? 

Marion. Plaven't you this dance? 

Blair. Not unless you 'give it to me. 

Marion. I'd much rather talk out here. (Crosses 
and sits by table.) 



68 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Blair. So should I. (Sits on edge of table at 
Marion's right.) 

Marion. We should tabulate our likes and dislikes 
— and then compare lists. I fancy that the lists would 
be almost identical. 

Blair. Similarity of tastes — congeniality in 
thought — agreement in opinions. Perhaps this ac- 
counts for the friendship which we have formed in 
these few weeks. I may call it friendship, may I not, 
Marion ? 

Marion. The very truest friendship I have ever 
known, Sheridan. You see, I'm quite frank about it. 

Blair. Added to all this has been our common love 
of Bobby. 

Marion. You have meant much to Bobby. You 
have given him the companionship, the interest and the 
outdoor life which he so needed. (Pauses.) You have 
done for him what Bob would have done. 

Blair. It makes me very happy to have you say 
that. 

Marion. Then it is a fair return for the happiness 
which you have brought to me. 

Blair. To you.? I don't understand. 

Marion. When I first met you, Sheridan, I was 
yielding to an overwhelming depression. 

Blair. The loss of your brother? 

Marion. Yes. Life seemed to be only — death. 

Blair. While in reality — 

Marion. Death is only — life. 

Blair. My few words, in themselves, could not 
have changed you. You must have had some proof, 
some demonstration. 

Marion. I did. (Paus'es.) Do you remember say- 
ing that the barrier between Bob and me was of my 
own willing? 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 69 

Blair. Yes. 

Marion. That a consciousness of his presence — in 
spirit — would help me? 

Blair. And it did help. 

Marion. Then — you know.? 

Blair. Could anything else have given you your 
present peace — and your quiet happiness .^^ 

Marion. On that very afternoon when you told me 
— I felt, for the first time, that he was near. Out of 
the stillness came his whistle — his dear old whistle — 
and then his voice. 

Blair. Did it frighten you.'* 

Marion. I had only the consciousness that it was 
Bob — that he had come back to me. That conscious- 
ness has never left me. 

Blair. Then you are never — alone.'' 

Marion. Never. Even if the voice does not come, 
I know that Bob is still a vital part of my life — is 
always with me. 

Blair. Have you told the others.'* 

Marion. Only Jane. No one else would under- 
stand. They all think my changed attitude and my 
new outlook are due to the fact that I am forgetting. 

Blair. And they would not believe that death can 
bridge the gulf with a message that brings a deeper 
spiritual comprehension of immortality. 

Marion. So now you know just what you have done 
for me — how grateful I am — how truly I count you my 
friend. 

Blair (as he covers her hand with his). Will you — 
always — let me be your friend — whatever happens? 

Marion. Always. Why do you ask.f* 

Blair. Because friendship is often put to the test. 
Promise me that — however different conditions may be 
— you will never forget — this night. 



70 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Bobby at doorway. 

Marion. I promise. {As Bobby enters from door- 
way.) Bobby, dear, jou should not be in the grounds 
at this late hour. 

(Blair walks back stage.) 

Bobby. But I went for mj kite. Jerry found it. 
(Impressively.) Jerry's gone! 

Marion. Gone? Gone where.'* 

Bobby. I don't know. 

Marion. In the car.? 

Bobby. No — on horseback. 

Marion. Are you sure, Bobby .'^ 

Bobby. Of course I'm sure. I saw him. 

Marion. Why should he be leaving the house with- 
out permission.'^ (Rises.) I shall speak to mother 
about it. 

Blair (detaining her). But, Marion, why shouldn't 
he be leaving? (Lapsing into brogue as he catches up 
Bobby.) Faith, and Bobby and I'll be after tellin' you 
that midsummer magic, moonlight witchery and the 
dreams o' love are quite enough to be lurin' any young 
lad into the realm of fantasy and fancy ! 

Marion (imitating the brogue). Your Irish tongue 
Avill have its way. (In her usual tone.) Come back 
from fancy to fact, Sheridan, and find your next part- 
ner. And as for you, Bobby, it's long past bedtime. 

Bobby. But it's a party. 

Marion. Parties grov/ tiresome, don't they, dear? 
And isn't your own little bed the very best place for 
you right now? 

Bobby (after a pause). I believe it is. Aunt Marion. 

Marion (kissing him). Then goodnight, dear, and 
run along. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 71 

Blair. And don't forget what's going to happen 
day after tomorrow. 

Bobby. You bet I won't forget. (He watches 
Blair and Marion as they go out at dining room door, 
then goes slowly up the stairway.) 

Almost immediately, Tevis appears at doorway. 

Tevis. Wait, boy. (Bobby turns in surprise.) Do 
you know my sister when you see her? 

Bobby. Yes, Mr. Tevis. 

Tevis. Then will you tell her that I wish to speak 
to her — here — immediately.? (Takes money from 
pocket.) Here's a quarter if you'll be quick about it. 

Bobby (with dignity). Thank you, Mr. Tevis, but 
I don't want to be paid for being polite. ( Walks slowly 
out dining room door.) 

Tevis, left to himself, moves restlessly about the 
room, as if in search of something. Then the door 
opens and Cecile enters — beautifully gowned, striking 
in appearance, exceedingly sophisticated, and of de- 
cided mannerisms. 

Cecile. So, at last, I am to be favored with an ex- 
planation, my dear — brother, I believe it is this time? 
(Crosses to table.) 

Tevis (calmly lighting a cigarette). What explana- 
tion is necessary? I happened to mention that my 
sister was in a nearby town; naturally, Mrs. Deering 
included you in the house party. 

Cecile. I do not question Mrs. Deering's hospitable 
impulse, but I am puzzling over your sudden desire for 
me to share your pleasure. It isn't like you. (Sits.) 

Tevis. Aren't you enjoying your new surround- 
ings ? 

Cecile. Immensely. And I find Mr. Blair — 
charming. 



72 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Tevis. You will leave Mr. Blair entirely out of 
your calculations. 

Cecils. Indeed.? By this time, you should be aware 
that it is quite impossible for me to leave any attrac- 
tive man out of my calculations. 

Tevis. My remark concerning Mr. Blair is not a 
request ; it is a command. 

Cecile (mockingly). Dear me! How masterful 
we are! Would it be worth while for me to utter a 
protest in regard to your flirtatious ways with the doll- 
faced widow .^^ 

Tevis. Natalie can help me with what I have to do. 
Hence the devotion. 

Cecile. a means to an end? I see. (Rises.) Sup- 
pose we come to the point, Alfred, for I realize per- 
fectly well that only some serious difficulty would have 
resulted in this gracefully managed summons. (Crosses 
to left.) 

Tevis (sneeringly) . Woman's divine and ever- 
present intuition! 

Cecile. Perhaps. I prefer to designate it as a 
natural conclusion based upon previous association 
with you. (Pauses.) Well — what's the trouble .f' 

Tevis (turning away from her). I've not suc- 
ceeded. 

Cecile. And why.'' Is courage failing at the cru- 
cial moment? Has your hand lost its cunning? Or 
is it that conscience doth make cowards of us all? 

Tevis. I've lacked the opportunity. In all these 
three weeks, I've never been able to lay my hand upon 
the key to the room where the document is hidden. 

Cecile. Won't you explain? For I must remind 
you that when you undertook this task, my own feeble 
intelligence was not deemed worthy to grapple ^ith 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 73 

the problem. (Sits by telephone.) Consequently, I 
am quite ignorant of details. 

Tevis. You will remember that, at the time of Von 
Holz's escape from the house, he left an important en- 
velope behind a sliding panel in the room where his 
valuable papers were kept. 

Cecile {calmly powdering her nose). Extremely 
careless of our trusted friend. 

Tevis. And in the envelope was the plan of a per- 
fected American airplane. 

Cecile. Why bother about tiresome old airplanes? 
The war is over. 

Tevis {significantly). There will be another one. 
{Crosses to her.) This is no trivial matter, Cecile, and 
it is not to your advantage to be indifferent. 

Cecile {dropping her indifference and changing her 
tone.) That is exactly what I've been waiting for you 
to say. Now — I'll listen. 

Tevis. This hiding place was known only to Von 
Holz and to the proper authorities and — {hesitates). 

Cecile. Yes ? 

Tevis. To Von Holz's own servant, SchaufF. 

Cecile. It isn't like Von Holz to trust an inferior. 

Tevis. He didn't. Schauff found out — in his own 
way. 

Cecile. I see. Hurry with your story — our ab- 
sence will cause comment. 

Tevis. Immediately upon Von Holz's death, SchaufF 
departed for New York, where at his request I met him. 

Cecile. And shared the secret, of course. The im- 
portant document, I presume, was to be handed over 
to the United States, in return for a substantial re- 
ward. 

Tevis. Naturally. 



74 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Cecile. It is no honor to be chosen by a man like 
Schauff. 

Tevis. The personal element did not enter into the 
transaction. He remembered only my services to Von 
Holz, and knew that I could be tempted — 

Cecile. By the dollar sign. Go on. 

Tevis. This house had just been sold to the Deer- 
ings — 

Cecile (rising). And, naturally, you were the very 
one to win your way to the family circle — and to do 
the deed. (Laughing.) Alfred, in the role of Prince 
Charming is — irresistible! 

Tevis. An introduction to Natalie was easily ac- 
complished; the invitation to their home followed; and 
for three weeks I have been vainly endeavoring to gain 
possession of the key. (Points.) That is the door to 
the room. 

Cecile (walking back stage), I see, (Turns.) 
And a skeleton key — 

Tevis. Won't work. The original article was made 
to order and its hiding place is known only to mem- 
bers of the family. 

Cecile. Why is it so zealously guarded? 

Tevis. The room contains a safe — evidently hold- 
ing the family valuables. 

Cecile. Ah — a safe! (Hurries to him at center.) 
Jewels, perhaps. 

Tevis (roughly). We've no time for that, Cecile. 

Cecile (scornfully). And you've learned nothing in 
these three weeks ! 

Tevis. Only that the key is in this room! 

Cecile. Easy work, then. 

Tevis. Not so easy when one is a guest — when the 
times for searching are few and far between — and when 
there is someone watching. 



^ 'OUT OF THE STILLNESS 75 

Cecile. What do jou mean? 

Tevis. Blair. 

Cecile. Impossible! He is not the type. 

Tevis. I have every reason to believe that the gov- 
ernment has sent him out. 

Cecile. What government? 

Tevis. Von Holz's government, of course. The 
United States has no inkling of the affair. 

Cecile. What makes you suspect him? 

Tevis. His renting the next door house — his con- 
stant watching — 

Cecile. But why should he suspect z/ou? 

Tevis. Merely, my presence here — and the fact that 
I have been, heretofore, an agent of Von Holz. 

Cecile (after a pause). Well — and what am I to 
do? (Walks to left — down stage.) 

Tevis (following her). For one thing, you're to 
throw suspicion upon Blair. 

Cecile. How? 

Tevis. I trust that to your wits. 

Cecile (suddenly). My crystal! 

Tevis. You have it with you? 

Cecile. I always have it. Nothing brings people 
so quickly to my way of thinking as a touch of the 
occult. What else? 

Tevis. You're to get that envelope. 

Cecile (sarcastically). Your confidence in my ability 
is flattering — but how am I to achieve all this — with- 
out a key? 

Tevis. You will have the key — tonight. 

Cecile (impatiently). Tonight! When, already, 
you have wasted three weeks ! 

Tevis. I am playing my last card — with Natalie. 
And, this time, I shall win. 

Cecile. How shall I know that you are successful f 



76 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Tevis. In some way or other, I will tell you that 
— alVs well — and later on, I'll sHp you the key. {Hands 
her paper.) Here is the explanation of the sliding 
panel behind which you will find the envelope. 

Cecile. Have you considered the possibility of my 
detection ? 

Tevis. Nothing like that will happen. You will 
wait until the house is quiet — 

Cecile {mockingly). And then ghde stealthily and 
noiselessly down the stairway — in the approved fashion 
of the traditional ghost — 

Tevis {suddenly). Ghost! That's it exactly. 

Cecile. What do you mean.? 

Eileen and Seymour at entrance. 

Tevis. That there is supposed to be a ghost In this 
house. {As Eileen and Seymour enter.) So — dress 
accordingly. 

Seymour. We're ready to mob you, Tevis. {Joins 
them at center.) 

Tevis. For what, I'd like to know. 

Seymour. For monopoHzing your sister. What 
right has any brother to do a thing like that? 

Tevis. The best right in the world— hasn't he, 
Cecile? 

Cecile. The best— and the first. {Sentimentally.) 
I'm very, very fond of my brother, Mr. Seymour. 

Seymour. Lucky dog that he is. I wish I had such 
a sister! 

Eileen {who has perched on the arm of the chair 
right of doorway). Perhaps Miss Tevis can be per- 
suaded to enlarge her sphere of usefulness. 

Cecile {sweetly). It is a temptation. {To Sey- 
mour.) Did I do anything so dreadful as to cut a 
dance, Mr. Seymour? 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 77 

Seymour. Not with me. I'm coming for mine, right 
now — so there's no escape for you. 

Cecile. Why should I wish to escape .f* {Comes 
down left, followed hy Seymour.) 

Enter Natalie and Blair from outdoors. 

Natalie. The highwayman is abroad again ! 
(Stands at Tevis' left.) 

Eileen (to herself). Oh! Oh! (Rises.) 

Seymour. How do you know.^ 

Natalie. Bess and Tom were the victims ! 

Tevis. No ! 

Natalie. Yes, they were — and after all their boast- 
ing. And everybody's joining in pursuit of the robber. 

Blair. In fact, they've followed him up to this par- 
ticular neighborhood — and here the trail disappears. 
(Joins Tevis and Natalie as Eileen crosses back stxige 
to right.) 

Seymour. How did you hear about it.^ 

Natalie. Hear? The road is swarming with cars. 
I don't see how the fellow has escaped. 

Cecile. Tell me about the highwayman. 

Seymour. A dashing knight of the road who ap- 
peared for the first time about three weeks ago — and 
whose identity is unknown. 

Cecile. Unknown.? Then I'll consult my crystal. 
(Joins group at center.) 

Natalie. Your crystal? Oh, Miss Tevis, is it pos- 
sible that you are one of the wonderful creatures who 
can see past, present and future in a crystal hdll? 

Cecile (laughing) . I'm not wonderful at all — and 
I don't profess to know anything of the real science 
of crystal gazing. But I have had results. 

Natalie. Then do you mind trying it — tonight — 
for us? 



78 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 



Cecils. Mind? It will be a real pleasure. Shall 
we experiment now — or later on.'^ 

Seymour (crossing and taJdng her arm). Later on. 
Right now, we're all pursuing the highwayman. 
(Laughingly, Tevis, Blair, Natalie, Cecile and Sey- 
mour pass through the doorway. Eileen lingers.) 
Come on, Eileen. 

Eileen. I'm tired, Byrne — I'd rather rest. 

Seymour. See you later, then. (Exeunt all.) 

Eileen hurries to the window and peers out anx- 
iously. After a few moments^ she beckons wildly and 
Jerry almost immediately clambers into the room over 
the sill. 

Eileen (pulling him down right stage). Don't 
stand in the light — someone might see you. Oh, Jerry, 
Jerry, why did you do it — why? 

Jerry. Great heavens ! I never thought that you'd 
care about the horse ; you told me to ride him whenever 
I wished. 

Eileen. Who cares about the horse.'' It's your 
deceit — your duplicity ! Oh, Jerry, Jerry! 

Jerry. Let me explain. 

Eileen. There's no time to explain. They're after 
you — don't you understand — they're after you. 

Jerry. But — listen to me. 

Eileen. I won't listen — I must hide you — but 
where — where? (Suddenly.) The room — the room! 
(Pushes him to the door of the room which contains 
the safe and takes key from behind the tapestry.) In 
here! 

Jerry. But, Eileen — I — 

Eileen (pushing him inside the door). You're safe 
here, for the present. And as soon as I can, I'll come 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 79 

back to let you out. (Slams door, locks it and returns 
key to hiding place,) 

Natalie, Bobby and Tevis enter. Cecile and Sey- 
mour stand at the doorway, chatting, 

Eileen {defiantly). Well — did you get him? 

Tevis. Not yet — but soon. The man is as good 
as caugh£. 

Eileen. Oh — is he? {Flaunts angrily out the din- 
ing room door.) 

Natalie {at center). I don't know what can be the 
matter with Eileen. She is so irritable — and impudent. 
{Turns to Bobby, who has followed her.) Now, Bobby 
— go to bed. I can't be bothered with you any Ibnger. 
(Tevis walks up and down hack stage.) 

Bobby. But, mother — you said I could stay up late. 

Natalie. I didn't mean all night. {Impatiently.) 
Now, run along. 

Bobby. I don't want to go — alone. 

Natalie. And you a big ten year old boy. 

Bobby {pulling her). Just this once. Please come 
with me, mother. 

Natalie {pushing him away). Bobby, I shall not 
speak to you again. Now, hurry. (Bobby goes up- 
stairs slowly and reluctantly.) 

Cecile {to Seymour). Then will you wait for me 
in the other room? It will take but a few moments to 
find my crystal — Sind— {turns) . You still wish me to 
test its powers, Mrs. Deering? 

Natalie. By all means. Crystal gazing has a per- 
fect fascination for me. 

Cecile. Then I'll hurry. (Seymour goes out din- 
ing room door and Cecile runs quickly up the stairs. 
Natalie seats herself by table.) 

Tevis {standing back of her). Do you realize, 



80 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 



Natalie, that this is the first time this evening when 
I have had you — alone? 

Natalie. I haven't been realizing anything else, 
Alfred. 

Tevis. I wish that I might believe that. 

Natalie. And — why not.? 

Tevis. Because I dare not reach for the moon. 

Natalie (softly). Nothing venture — nothing have. 

Tevis. Do you mean that.? 

Natalie (rising). Can't you see — that I mean it? 

Tevis. Then — may I play highwayman — and ask 
for your heart? 

Natalie {coyly). Why ask for what you already 
have ? 

Tevis. Natalie! {As he draws her to him.) The 
real highwayman is a poor unlucky chap compared to 
me. {After a moment.) What was that? 

Natalie. I heard nothing. 

Tevis. A sound on the gravel outside the window. 
I wonder if that fellow is prowling about. {Goes to 
window and peers out.) 

Natalie. The highwayman? 

Tevis {suddenly turning). Natalie, is there any- 
tning of value in this room? 

Natalie {frightened). The safe — {points) — in 
there ! 

Tevis. Can he open the door of the room? 

Natalie. Not without the key. 

Tevis. Then — has he the key? 

Natalie {running to the tapestry and raising the 
corner as Tevis apparently gazes out the window). 
Oh, it's here, Alfred. It's here — safe! 

Tevis {still peering out the window). I'm glad of 
that. {Turns.) After all, it seems to have been a false 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 81 

ilarm. I'm sorry to have frightened you, dear. (Places 
in arm around her and they walk slowly down stage,) 

Cecile appears on the stairway, with crystal. 

Cecile. I'm afraid I'm interrupting. {As Natalie 
ind Tevis separate.) In fact, I'm quite sure that you 
laven't finished your conversation. 

Tevis. AlVs well that ends well! Come along. 
[Cecile stands between them.) 

Natalie {in confusion). And is this the crystal.'^ 
A.nd do you hold it — so? {Takes crystal.) And — {as 
Marion and Blair enter from dining room.) Come, 
Marion — come, Mr. Blair — and have a peep at the fu- 
ture. {As they join her and Cecile at center). And 
^dll you tell the others to join us, Alfred .^^ 

Tevis. Certainly. {Goes out dining room door.) 

Blair. Just how do you explain this phenomenon. 
Miss Tevis .f* 

Cecile {as she takes the crystal). I don't pretend 
to explain — save that I feel a force beyond me operat- 
ing through me — sometimes a rarefied self, sometimes 
m extraneous personality. (Marion moves to right of 
it age.) 

Natalie. How perfectly wonderful ! You should 
io it in public. 

Cecile. My gift is not to be commercialized. 

Enter Tevis from dining room with Mrs. Deering, 
followed by Seymour and Eileen. Blair crosses to 
Marion. As the newcomers crowd around Cecile and 
N^ATALiE, examining the crystal, Blair speaks to 
Marion in a low tone. 

Blair. Marion, may I presume to offer you a word 
Df warning.'* 

Marion. Warning? 

Blair. I am not at liberty to answer any questions 



82 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

— and my suspicions may be unfounded. Accordingly, 
you will be forced to take much for granted. 

Marion. Say whatever you wish, Sheridan. 

Blair. Then may I ask you to be watchful — to- 
night — after everyone has retired? And if there is 
need of me — I shall be near. 

Marion. I shall do as you say — and, thank you. 

Cecils (advancing with the crystal). Now where 
shall I sit.f^ Here in your midst? And may I have a 
small table for the ball? (As Seymour takes small 
table from right of doorway and places it before her.) 
Thank you. (He draws out telephone chair for her.) 
Now, I am ready. (Sits.) 

(Marion sits by table with Blair standing at her 
right. Seymour is down left stage. Natalie stands 
back ^of Cecile — to her left are Mrs. Deering and 
Eileen.) 

Cecils. May the lights be extinguished or at least 
very much dimmed? I find that my vision is very much 
keener and clearer and my perception of detail much 
more delicate if I am not enveloped in a glaring illumi- 
nation. (Seymour touches electric button and the 
lights are extinguished enough to leave only a shaft 
of radiance for Cecile as she gazes at the crystal. The 
others are but faintly outlined. Tevis moves to vicinity 
of tapestry.) I shall ask you all to be very quiet and 
very sympathetic so that I may obtain the best results. 
(For a time, amid perfect quiet, she gazes fixedly at 
the crystal — then finally speaks in a strained, unnat- 
ural tone.) This home has not always been the center 
of joyous association, happy companionship and tender 
romance ; it has not always re-echoed to the merry laugh 
of childhood ; it has not always heard the soothing song 
of the wind in the tall trees. It has sheltered sorrow. 



OUT OF THE STILLNES S _83 

tragedy, even treachery; it has been shadowed by the 
curse of an enemy country ; it has seen within its cor- 
ridors a white-robed, blood-stained, wraithHke creature 
— (stops with shuddering, moaning cry). Oh! Oh! 
(Tevis, who in the meantime has possessed himself of 
the hey, springs to her side.) 

Tevis. Cecile! Cecile! What is it? {He slips the 
key into her open hand.) 

Cecile {shaking him off impatiently and dropping 
the key into her gown). The scene brightens; there is 
a garden of roses; a scented Hlac bush which taps the 
pane ; and along the winding way comes one for whom 
the sunlight of love and happiness is once more shining. 
(Pauses.) There is a stranger — a neighbor — who 
wears the guise of friendship but whose heart is dark 
with disloyalty. I cannot see his face, but he has won 
his way to the confidence of those whose circle has 
opened to receive him. (Bends closer.) And yet — and 
yet — (Another pause.) The cloud has lifted — his 
face is in the sunshine — and I see him clearly. (Sud- 
denly raises her head, rises, turns and looks directly at 
Blair as Seymour pushes the button and the room is 
flooded with light.) He — is — in — this — room! 

. Curtain. 

(The curtain is lowered for a moment to indicate a 
passage of time.) 

The curtain rises on a dark stage. Down the stair- 
way creeps Eileen. She runs to the tapestry, raises 
it and for a moment stands bewildered. Then she hur- 
ries to the door of the little room and shakes it once^ 
twice, thrice, as she whispers ''Jerry — Jerry!'' Ex- 
citedly, she runs down left of stage and stands irreso- 
lute. As she turns ^ a figure, white-robed, whose face 



84 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

is hidden hy a floating cloudlike veil, comes slowly and 
noiselessly down the stairway. Eileen gazes for a 
moment, then turns in fright and hurries through the 
dining room door. The figure glides to the door and 
as she places the key in the keyhole, Marion appears 
on the stairway. She watches the figure until it dis- 
appears within the open door. 

Curtain. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 



The Third Act. 

• 
Scene : Same as the Second Act. The curtain rises 

upon Eileen curled up on the window seat. After a 
moment, Lucy enters from doorway to dining room 
with a card table which she places at lower left of stage. 
On this she arranges a cover, and takes cards, scores, 
pencils, etc., from table drawer, 

Eileen. Lucy? 

Lucy {who has not seen her). Good gracious, Miss 
Eileen ! How you startled me ! 

Eileen {petulantly). What are you doing.'' 

Lucy. What do I usually do after breakfast.'' 

Eileen. Breakfast? Is it breakfast time? 

Lucy. It's later than usual, of course — but it's 
breakfast. {Suddenly.) Haven't you had any.^ 

Eileen. Hadsmy? I never want to look upon food 
again. 

Lucy. Then something dreadful must have hap- 
pened to you. 

Eileen. Who's in the dining room.'' 

Lucy. Mrs. Deering, Miss Marion, Mr. Seymour 
and your mother. 

Eileen. Where are the others.'' 

Lucy. Miss Lizzie finished long ago. 

Eileen. Probably ready for lunch by this time. 

Lucy. Miss Tevis had a tray sent to her room. 

Eileen. She's that kind. 

Lucy. And Mr. Tevis is walking up and down out- 
side, smoking like a locomotive. 

Eileen {abruptly). Where's Jerry? 

85 



86 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Lucy. He hasn't been near me this morning. 

Eileen {sharply). Why should he be near you? 
{Pauses as Lucy glances at her in surprise.) Where's 
the morning paper? 

Lucy. Mr. Tevis lias it. 

Eileen (rising). Then get it — get it — right away, 
right away, I say. (Stamps.) Don't stand there star- 
ing at me, Lucy ! 

Lucy (going to doorway). Whatever in the world 
has made you so fidgety and so touchy. Miss Eileen? 
(Passes out.) 

Eileen, left to herself, takes the key from behind 
the tapestry, opens door to the little room, and disap- 
pears. In a moment she returns, locks the door, re- 
places the key and walks nervously up and down. Enter 
Lucy slowly, reading the open paper. 

Lucy (as she reads). Oh — oh — oh! 

Eileen. What's the matter? (Stands by table.) 

Lucy. He's been caught. 

Eileen. Who's been caught? 

Lucy. Tlie highwayman. Last night — (pauses) — 
and he was shot while trying to escape. 

(Eileen stands motionless for a moment, then crum- 
ples up on the nearby chair and hides her head in her 
arms. Lucy drops the paper, runs to her and kneels 
by the chair.) » 

Lucy. What is tlie matter? Oh, what is the matter? 

Marion and Seymour emerge from the dining room. 
Marion carries a pair of large garden shears. 

Marion. Then if you have nothing special to do, 
help me gather flo.vers. It's my particular morning 
task — and — . 

Lucy. Miss Marion! Oh, Miss Marion! 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 87 



Marion. Eileen — what is the trouble? (Hands 
shears to Seymour.) Will you bring the flowers — here 
— to me, Byrne? 

Seymour (glancing at Eileen). But if there is any- 
thing I can do — 

Marion. There isn't. Probably a case of over- 
wrought nerves. Come back with the flowers later on. 

Seymour. Just as you say. (Goes outdoors.) 

Marion. Mrs. Deering needs you in the other room, 
Lucy. I'll attend to Miss Eileen. 

Lucy. Yes, Miss Marion. (Goes out at dining room 
door.) 

Marion (sitting on arm of Eileen's chair). Now, 
suppose you tell me all about it. 

Eileen. There's nothing to tell. 

Marion. I fancy there is. 

Eileen. I'm just tired — and cross — 

Marion. And tangled up in a web of deception. 

Eileen. What do 3^ou mean? 

Marion. You have known all along that Jerry was 
never Bess Roberts' chauffeur, haven't you? 

Eileen. Yes. 

Marion. And you've also known that J^rry is the 
highwayman. 

Eileen. What makes you think he's the highway- 
man? 

Marion. Isn't the limp a bit suspicious? And the 
fact that, last night, he was abroad on your horse at 
the very time of the hold-up? 

Eileen. That's no proof. 

Marion. Perhaps not. (Pauses.) I am waiting 
for you to explain — everything. 

Eileen. I'm so miserable — that I'll have to tell 
somebody. 

Marion. Then — from the first. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 



Eileen. He came — that afternoon after Aunt 
Lizzie told us. I knew who it was by her description 
— and I engaged him as chauffeur. 

Marion. A very impulsive and dangerous thing 
to do. 

Eileen. But I wanted to reform him, Marion. 

Marion (impatiently). Oh, Eileen, you are such a 
mixture of impetuosity and indiscretion ! 

Eileen (sobbing). And I didn't reform him, after 
all. (Points to paper.) 

Marion (as she picks up the paper and reads). I'm 
sorry. But it sliouJd teach you a lesson. That type 
of criminal is dangerous, no matter how attractive and 
reserved he may be. 

Eileen. Jerry wasn't exactly — reserved. 

Marion. I imagine not. It makes me sick, Eileen, 
to think that you had anything to do with him — that 
you even spoke to him. And the fact that he took ad- 
vantage of your ridiculous reform proves what he is. 

Eileen (angrily). Jerry's a gentleman — a gentle- 
man! 

Marion. He couldn't be. 

Eileen. And — oh, Marion — Marion — I'm dread- 
fully fond of him! 

Marion. Eileen! 

Eileen (wildly). I tried to save him last night 
when I heard of the hold-up. I shut him in — there ! 
(Points.) 

Marion. In — that — room ? 

Eileen. Why not.'^ (Rises.) It's the safest place. 

Marion. Then you let him out later? 

Eileen. I tried to — but the key was gone. 

Marion. Gone? (Rises.) 

Eileen. I almost lost my mind. I shook the door 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 89 

— and called him — but he didn't answer. And then — 
(pauses). 

Marion (eagerly). Yes? 

Eileen. I saw the ghost. 

Marion. The ghost? 

Eileen. You think I'm crazy. 

Marion. No, I don't. 

Eileen. It came down the stairway all in white — 
with a floating white veil. What was it, Marion — • 
what was it? 

Marion. Someone walking in her sleep, of course. 
Where did it go? 

Eileen. I didn't wait to see. I ran out of that 
door (points to dining room door) and up the back 
stairs. 

Marion. Did you come down again? 

Eileen. Early this morning. The key was in its 
usual place. 

Marion. Probably mother had kept it during the 
night. 

Eileen. And had returned it before daybreak? 
Hardly? (Pauses.) It's queer — isn't it, Marion? 

Marion. Very — queer. 

Eileen. And how did he get out? 

Marion. Someone opened the door, of course. 

Eileen. But who could have opened it? 

Marion. That I don't know. 

Eileen (taking the paper). He was — captured — 
shortly after midnight. 

Marion (taking' it from her). Never mind about 
that — but rest for a while. Things will appear diff^er- 
ent later on. 

Eileen. But Jerry in tliat jail — and — 

Marion (with arm about her shoulder). Don't think 
about Jerry. 



90 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Eileen. I can't help it. 

Marion. Then we shall try to help hini in some way. 

Eileen. Really .'^ 

Marion. Really. (Eileen goes slowly upstairs as 
Seymour enters.) 

Seymour {with a glance at Eileen). Is the patient 
recovering .f^ 

Marion. Hardly a patient, Byrne. Eileen has been 
overdoing and her nerves are a trifle shaky. That's all. 
{As she takes the flowers which he carries.) Oh — how 
pretty! I hereby appoint you chief floral decorator. 
{Arranges the flowers in vase on table.) 

Seymour. When do you expect Jane.f^ 

Marion. On the noon train. Don't you want to 
meet her.? 

Seymour. Rather. Shali^I take the car.? 

Marion. I fear you must act as temporary chauf- 
feur. Jerry has vanished. 

Seymour. Vanished? 

Marion. From our particular circle. {Pauses.) I 
have every reason to believe that Jerry is the high- 
wayman. 

Seymour. Great Scott ! And Eileen — 

Marion. Is naturally a bit hysterical. To dis- 
cover that the chauffeur one engages is a criminal is 
a bit disconcerting. 

Seymour. And she wanted a criminal to reform ! 
I begin to understand. 

Marion. Never mind about that. We have no com- 
plaint to make since he has not pointed his pistol at 
us — collectively or individually. 

Seymour. You forget Aunt Lizzie. 

Marion {laughing). I do, indeed. 

Seymour. Isn't it strange that she has not recog- 
nized him.? 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 91 

Marion. The handkerchief over his face probably 
saved him. And she has had suspicions. 

Seymour (after a pause). Marion, has it occurred 
to you that strange things are happening.^ 

Marion. Strange things are happening. (Pauses.) 
What did you think of the crystal gazing. f^ 

Seymour. A pretty piece of acting, but rather un- 
fair to Blair. 

Marion. Why — unfair.'^ 

Seymour. One knows — intuitively — that he is not 
that sort. 

Marion. You know and / know, but the others un- 
doubtedly look upon him with suspicion. 

Seymour. She apologized gracefully after it was 
all over and assured him that there was some mistake 
— but the mischief was done. 

Marion. And was there a purpose back of it all.^^ 
(Comes to him at center.) Listen, Byrne. • 

As they talk quietly and earnestly together Jane 
appears at doorway. For a moment she watches them 
wistfully, then starts toward them. 

Jane. Enter — the heavy villain ! 

Marion (meeting her).- Jane, I didn't expect you 
until noon. 

Jane. My nice literary man brought me all the way 
in his limousine and dropped me bag and baggage at 
your doorstep. 

Marion. Was the conference satisfactory.'^ 

Jane. Oh — very. 

Marion (taking her traveling hag). Then, come 
upstairs and tell me all about it while you rest. Byrne 
will excuse us. 

Jane. But I'm not tired — and I must tell you both 



92 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 



what has happened ; for it is all so wonderful that I 
can't quite believe it's true. (Sits right of doorway.) 

Marion (sitting on hassock). Is the nice literary 
man responsible for all this good fortune? (Seymour 
sits hy table.) 

Jane. He is. For playing the part of the good 
magician he has been instrumental in securing for me 
the L^^on Fellowship. 

Marion. And what is the Lyon Fellowship .^^ 

Jane. The goal of every art student. It means 
five years at Paris, five years of the best instruction, 
five years of ever3^thing worth while — 

Marion. And five years away from us all. Have 
you accepted, Jane.^^ 

Jane. I am to answer tomorrow. (Pauses.) But 
I shall accept, for it means the golden opportunity 
come my way at last. 

SeymouA (rising). You shall not go, Jane. (Goes 
to her.) You shall not go! 

Marion (rising hastily). Then persuade her to stay, 
Byrne. And if your argument fails, perhaps mine will 
have some weight. (Goes upstairs with Jane's hag.) 

Jane (rising). And why, Byrne, do you say that I 
shall not go? As an artist you know what the fellow- 
ship means ; you realize that it will almost certainly 
result in my definite career. (Comes down stage.) 

Seymour. But, Jane — I need you. 

Jane (after a pause). Is that a reason great enough 
to stand in the way of my ambition? (Crosses to 
table.) 

Seymour (standing at her left). You don't under- 
stand. 

Jane. I think I do. (Sits.) 

Seymour. For I, myself, didn't understand until 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 93 



just now — when I realized the possibihty of losing you. 
(Pauses.) Don't go, Jane. (Sits on arm of the chair.) 

Jane. You're asking a great deal of me, Byrne. 

Seymour. I've always asked a great deal of you 
• — your help, your encouragement, your friendship, 
your care — (pauses). Is It too late to ask the greatest 
thing of all? 

Jane. Meaning — my ambition.? 

Seymour. Meaning — your love. For I know, now, 
that — always there has been no one but you. 

Jane. That's foolish, Byrne. Just because I'm 
about to disappear from your immediate circle you 
fancy that whatever brotherly affection you have for 
me is, in reaUty, something else. 

Seymour (crossing to left). You don't beheve me. 

Jane. Don't put it that way. Rather, that I know 
you are mistaken. 

" Seymour. But I'm not mistaken — and you're going 
to listen to me, Jane. 

Jane. But I'm not going to Hsten. (Abruptly.) 
What about Marion.? 

Seymour. Marion? Never. You couldn't have 
loved me or you would never have sent me to her. 

Jane. I've loved you always, Byrne — you see, I'm 
quite frank about it. And loving you, I thought only 
of your happiness, your career — and that Marion could 
give you what you need — and want. 
Seymour. But I want — only you. 

Jane. And I have only myself to give. 
Seymour (as he starts toward her). Then — 
Jane (raising her hand). Stop. For, even If we 
grant all that, there is still an unsurmountable barrier 
between us. 

Seymour. What possible barrier could there he? 



94 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Jane (rising). The barrier of our careers. {As he 
attempts to speak.) Oh, I know what you're about to 
say — how you're trying to tell me that — together — 
we'll accomplish wonders ; but we couldn't — and we 
shouldn't — for the personal freedom of it all would be 
gone — and there might even be a petty jealousy of 
each other's work — 

Seymour. Jane — 

Marion comes slowly down the stairway. 

Jane. Oh, no, Byrne, we're much better off as we 
are. You are destined for great things and, as for 
me — who knows wliat is waiting in the enchanted land 
across the sea ! 

Marion (coming down center). But suppose that it 
doesn't prove the enchanted land — and that you dis- 
cover too late that the haven of heart's desire is — be- 
hind you. (Slips an arm around Jane's waist and puts 
her hand through Byrne's arm as she guides tliem to 
the open doorway.) It's too big a quc^ftion to settle 
all in a moment, dear Jane ; and it's only fair to talk 
it over with Byrne — out there. (As she pushes Byrne 
ahead.) Wait for her — there. (He goes out door- 
way.) Jane, the love that has lain dormant for years 
will be all the truer and stronger for the awakening; 
and even Fame's beckoning finger can lead you to noth- 
ing greater. (Pauses.) Will you go — or stay.? 

Jane (quietly). Deep in my heart, Marion, I feel 
that I shall — stay. (She follows Seymour.) 

(For a moinent Marion stands looking after her, 
then hurries to the telephone.) 

Marion (at telephone). Oakland 74. . . . Yes, 
please. . . . May I speak to Mr. Blair? . . . 
Gone.f^ . . . Where .^^ . . . Oh — he didn't say. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 95 

{Hangs up receiver with a bewildered expression and 
crosses to table.) 

From the doorway comes Bobby in military attire. 
He marches up to Marion, who quickly regains her 
composure and returns his salute. 

Marion. Greetings, General Deering — and what 
can jou tell me of the latest military maneuvers? 

Bobby {motioning to his imaginary soldiers). Here's 
my crack regiment all ready to show you, Aunt Marion, 
if you have time to look. 

Marion {sitting by table). I always have time for 
you, General — so trot out your rookies. 

For a few moments Bobby conducts a military drill, 
giving and executing his commands. Marion, in spite 
of her pretended interest, is preoccupied. 

Bobby. I don't believe you know what we're doing. 
Aunt Marion. You're thinking of something else. 

Marion. Grown-ups can know just what's going on 
even if their thoughts do happen to be a thousand 
miles away. 

Bobby. I hope Mr. Blair isn't going to be a thou- 
sand miles away. 

Marion. What makes you think of Mr. Blair? 

Bobby. Because I saw him drive away long before 
I was dressed this morning — and he put a suit case in 
the car. {After a moment.) Aunt Marion? 

Marion. Yes ? 

Bobby. He wouldn't break his word to me, would 
he? 

Marion. I'm sure he wouldn't. 

Bobby. For — you know — he promised to take me 
fishing tomorrow. 

Marion. Then I'm sure he'll be back in time. 

Bobby. Didn't he say anything about going away.? 



96 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Marion. Not a word. 

Bobby. That's funny, isn't it? 

Marion. Decidedly funny. 

Bobby (catching her by the hand). Come on out- 
doors. I don't want to stay in this poky old place. 
(^She rises.) 

And just then, Henry Jerome, a flushed and over- 
heated gentleman, appears at the doorway, agitatedly 
mopping his brow. He is middle-aged and prosperous 
— and a twinkle in his eye proclaims a sense of humor. 

Jerome. I beg your pardon for appearing in this 
unceremonious fashion, but your gardener told me that 
I would find a telephone in this room. 

Marion (poijiting). Right there. And at your 
service. 

Jerome. I am the owner of the house next to the 
Stuyvcsants and arrived this morning, never expecting 
to find my own telephone out of commission. Which, 
I trust, explains everything. 

Marion. It does. We'll leave you in full possession. 
(With Bobby she goes outdoors.) 

Jerome is about to place the receiver to his ear when 
Aunt Lizzie majestically descends the stairs. 

Jerome (as he first sees her). God bless my soul, 
if it isn't Lizzie. (Puts down telephone.) 

Aunt L. Still appearing when you are least ex- 
pected, aren't you, Henry.? 

Jerome (meetiiig her at center). That's a prett}^ 
welcome for a man you haven't seen for twenty-five 
years. 

Aunt L. Any man who deliberately stays away 
from his friends for twenty-five years doesn't deserve 
any welcome at all. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 97 

Jerome. That old tongue of yours is still doing 
duty, I see. 

Aunt L. To the extent that it has saved me from 
any matrimonial entanglement. (Crosses to table.) 

Jerome. Why, isn't this your house? 

Aunt L. My sister-in-law's. And why, may I ask, 
are you staging the return of the prodigal son in our 
front hall.? (Sits.) 

Jerome. My own home is two doors up the road. 
I've just bought it. (Takes chair from back stage 
and places it at her left.) 

Aunt L. For the sake of old associations, I pre- 
sume. 

Jerome. Exactl}^ When I took possession I found 
the telephone disconnected — and, on the advice of your 
gardener — 

Aunt L. Came over to use ours. Well — why don't 
you use it.? 

Jerome. The excitement of once more beholding 
you, Lizzie, has driven common, everyday duties from 
my mind. 

Aunt L. Don't try to be funny, Henry. You never 
could do it when you were a boy — and I fancy you 
make more of a failure now that you've reached the 
years of discretion. (Pauses.) Where is your family.? 

Jerome. I'm looking for it. 

Aunt L. It? 

Jerome. My son, Donald. He's all I have. My 
wife died ten years ago, Lizzie. 

Aunt L. I hadn't heard of it, Henry. But in all 
these years we've known nothing of you save that you 
were far away in another part of the country busily 
engaged in making money. 

Jerome. That's been my chief interest — that and 
my boy. And now I'm coming back — to stay. 



98 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Aunt L. But what's become of the boy? 

Jerome. That I don't know. Three weeks ago I 
sent him ahead to get the place in order, as I was 
delayed by business. Today I find that there are no 
servants, no telephone connections and — no Donald. 

Aunt L. Haven't you heard from him.? 

Jerome. Several scrappy letters, raving about the 
house and the surrounding country. He's been here, 
all right. 

Aunt L. Aren't you worried.'^ 

Jerome. Not a bit. I have great faith in his 
abihty to take care of himself. Don's always doing 
erratic things — and loves the adventurous. 

Aunt L. Quite a change from you, Henry. If I 
remember correctly, you never ventured beyond your 
front gate without your rubbers. 

Jerome. You weren't so recklessly dashing your- 
self. 

Aunt L. (scorning the remark). The boy probably 
has some nearby sweetheart in whom he is interested. 

Jerome. Oh, no, he hasn't. Don shares all his 
secrets with his old dad. (Complacently.) He's a 
great boy, Lizzie, a great boy. 

Aunt L. Spoiled to death, probably. You are a 
poor excuse for a disciplinarian. 

Jerome. Don never needed discipline. He's been 
the best sort of a son — he's stood for good manl}^ 
things. (Pauses.) He's a great boy, Lizzie — a great 
boy. 

Aunt L. (sarcastically). He sounds like a paragon. 

Jerome. And when he came back from France — 
wounded — with a Croix de Guerre and a D. S. M.--- 
well — I just can't explain, Lizzie — but I was pretty 
proud and pretty happy. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 99 

Aunt L. {softly). Why shouldn't you be — proud 
and happy? 

Jerome {triumphantly). There! You're talking 
like the tender-hearted Lizzie I used to know — who 
always tried to disguise the tenderness by sharp words 
and clever sarcasm. {Pauses.) I've been wondering if 
that other self still existed. 

Aunt I^. It is strange that you recognized me after 
all these years. 

Jerome. Not strange at all. For I've thought of 
you often — and you haven't changed — at least to me. 

Aunt L. And I knew you the moment I saw you. 

Jerome {laughing). Isn't it all like a story book? 
Here we sit — twenty-five years after — trying to make 
each other believe that time has touched us lightly. 

Ax^-iiiT 1j. {testily). Nothing of the kind. You know 
very well that I look my age — and I'm just beginning 
to feel that you are fast entering upon that epoch 
known as dotage. 

Jerome. Oh, no, you're not, Lizzie — no, you're not. 
You're thinking, just as I am, of that long ago when 
youth meant friendship — and more — and when both 
lives were embittered by and changed by misunder- 
standing. 

Aunt L. {softly). I still have the valentine, Henry. 
You remember? 

Jerome. Yes. 

Aunt L. {testily). Not, of course, that I believe in 
valentines— silly sentimental stuff as they are. 

Jerome {laughing) . Oh, yes, you do believe, Lizzie 
— yes, you do. And some day I'll send another valen- 
tine — if you'll let me. 

Aunt L. Don't you think that you'd better attend 
to that telephoning? 

Jerome {rising, crossing the floor and limping a 



100 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

little). Ouch! A touch of rheumatism. Old age will 
out — won't it, Lizzie? 
: Aunt L. Henry! 

Jerome. What's the matter? 

Aunt L. Does Donald limp? 

Jerome. A trifle. He was wounded in the knee. 

Aunt L. And does he look like you? 

Jerome. He looks as I did when you first knew me, 
Lizzie. 

Aunt L. Then, Henry, leave that telephone — and 
come along with me. {Takes his arm.) For I think I 
can help you to find Donald. 

Jerome (as he is firmly guided to the open door- 
way). But, Lizzie — you've never seen him — 

Aunt L. Oh — yes — I have! (They go out.) 

Cecile comes slowly down the stairway — and after 
looking carefully around — goes to the window and sig- 
nals. . Almost immediately y Tevis enters from outdoors. 

Tevis. I've been walking up and down that yard for 
hours, waiting for your signal. 

Cecile (calmly). I saw you. (Sits by table.) 

Tevis. Saw me? (Angrily.) Then why have you 
taken all this time to report? 

Cecile. The hour was too early, my dear Alfred. 
You should know by this time that I allow nothing to 
interfere with my breakfast in bed — and my beauty 
sleep. 

Tevis. Don't exasperate me. 

Cecile. And, anyway — there is nothing to report. 

Tevis (coming to her). What do you mean? 

Cecile. Just what I say. There was no envelope 
behind the panel. 

Tevis. There must have been. 

Cecile. I do not often make mistakes, Alfred. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 101 

Tevis. You looked — thoroughly? 

Cecile. Thoroughly. I repeat — there was no en- 
velope. Either Von Holz was mistaken in regard to 
its location — or you have been tricked. 

Tevis. Blair has already found it. 

Cecile (indifferently). That may be. 

Tevis. Were you detected? 

Cecile. In this stupid household? Hardly. (Rises 
and crosses to telephone chair.) Let's get out of it, 
Alfred. (Sits.) I'm bored. 

Tevis (at center). We're forced to get out — now. 
Listen. Later on I'll appear with an unexpected letter 
summoning me to New York. I'll insist on your re- 
maining — but like a dutiful sister you will desire to 
accompany me. So — be ready to start at a moment's 
notice. 

Cecile. With all the pleasure in the world. 

Mrs. Deering and Natalie enter from dining room. 

Cecile. Are you provoked with me, dear Mrs. Deer- 
ing, for being such a lazy guest? (Stands by Mrs. 
Deering as Natalie crosses to Tevis' right.) The 
charming room, the delicious breeze and the heavenly 
quiet proved too much for me — so I deliberately over- 
slept. 

Mrs. D. Every guest in this household does as she 
pleases, my dear. 

Cecile. Then that is what makes it so irresistible. 
I wish I might always stay. 

Natalie. You'll be coming back often, I hope — for 
— for — (hesitates) Alfred, have you told her? 

Cecile (quickly). Oh — really? I don't have to be 
told — it's so very evident — and how very wonderful! 
(Crosses to Natalie and kisses her.) I am so happy, 
my dear. (Turns.) Alfred, why didn't you tell me? 



102 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Tevis. I wasn't sure that Natalie wished the en- 
gagement made public yet. 

Mrs. D. Not jet. You see, I know all about it, too, 
and Natalie and I have been making our plans this 
morning. Can't we four celebrate the event at the 
bridge table? (To Cecile.) It is our custom, Miss 
Tevis, to enjoy a game each morning after our break- 
fast. 

Cecile. How lovel}^ I adore bridge. 

Tevis. And I'll come in later on. I've a cigar to 
finish. 

Cecile. You're afraid we intend to discuss the trous- 
seau — now own up to it. 

Tevis (as he goes out the doorway). I refuse to 
commit myself. 

Mrs. Deering pushes telephone chair to left of card 
table and seats herself. Cecile places the chair near 
doorway to Mrs. Deering's right. Natalie wheels 
chair right of table to Mrs. Deering's left. Marion 
passes the doorway. 

Mrs. D. Marion will make the fourth. Won't you, 
Marion ? 

Marion (entering). Certainly. Whose partner shall 
I be.? (As Mrs, Deerixg motions her to sit opposite 
her.) Yours, mother.? (Brings small chair from back 
of table and places it opposite Mrs. Deering. They 
seat themselves, Cecile facing the audience and Ma- 
rion at her right.) Good morning, Miss Tevis. Did 
you rest well.? 

Cecile (effusive! y). Wonderfully. This air is a 
tonic. 

Marion. And, iLubtless, exercise tends to invoke 
deep slumber. 

Cecile. But I took no exercise. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 103 

Marion. Oh — I see. 

Cecile. So the air is entirely responsible. 

Mrs. D. (who has been looking at her cards). I'll 
say — a diamond. 

Natalie. How opulent of you, mother. 

Cecile. And how appropriate, Natalie, after what 
you've just told me. (Pauses.) I may call you Natalie 
now — may I not.^ 

Natalie. Of course you may — Cecile! (As she 
glances at her cards.) I'll leave the bid to you, Ma- 
rion. 

Marion. And I'll pass it on to Miss Tevis. 

Cecile. Who makes it a heart — to match the dia- 
mond. (Looks around.) Isn't anyone to raise the bid.'* 
Then — a heart it is. 

Natalie (as she lays down her cards). It seems to 
me that hearts are rather in your line, Cecile. 

Cecile (gayly). My chief commodity. Your lead, 
Mrs. Deering. 

Mrs. D. (as she plays). This seems a strange lead, 
doesn't it.^ 

Marion. A knave? Oh, a knave often leads I'm find- 
ing out. 

Natalie (as she plays). I'll give him my two spot. 

Marion (as she plays). And I'll present him with 
a queen for a running mate. 

Natalie. What a queer play, Marion. 

Marion. Queer but symbolical. That's why I did it. 

Cecile (laughingly). And all your trouble for noth- 
ing. Watch me take it with a heart. 

Marion. Though a club would have been more ap- 
propriate. (As Eileen comes down the stairway.) 
Come here, Eileen, and tell what you saw last night. 

Eileen (standing hack of Marion's chair). Every- 
body would laugh at me. 



104 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Marion. I don't believe so. Out with it. 

Eileen (dramatically). I — saw — a — ghost! 

Cecile. Ghost! (Drops her cards). How stupid of 
me! 

Mrs. D. Ghost ! Impossible. 

Natalie. Where? 

Eileen. Right on those stairs. It was after all of 
jou had gone to bed. And it wore white and had a 
long, floating veil. 

Mrs. D. What were you doing down stairs at that 
time of night .^ 

Eileen. I came down to get something I had for- 
gotten. 

Mrs. D. (sharply). And doubtless were too sleepy 
to know what you were doing. 

Marion. Don't condemn Eileen too hastily, mother, 
for I — -too — saw the ghost. 

Natalie (for the card game has gone on during all 
the conversation). Cecile ! You've trumped my ace! 

Cecile (confusedly). My dear! I beg your pardon. 

Eileen. You saw it, Marion.? You didn't say so. 

Marion. For reasons of my own. 

Mrs. D. (laying down her cards). .You make me 
nervous, Marion. Is this simply to frighten us or is it 
a fact.'^ 

Marion. It's a fact. It passed me near enough — to 
touch — and (significantly). Its veil was thrown back! 

Natalie. Why, Cecile ! You're positively white ! 

Mrs. D. How ridiculous of us even to listen. Ma- 
rion, of course, saw one of the maids walking in her 
sleep. 

Marion. I'm not attempting to explain. 

Tevis enters hurriedly from outdoors with open letter. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 105 

Natalie. Here's Alfred. (As she notes his disturbed 
expression she rises and goes to him.) What is it.'^ 

Tevis. Bad news, I'm afraid. 

Mrs. D. Bad news? 

Tevis. In that I am called to New York immedi- 
ately. This letter has just come and (to Cecile) it 
concerns some investments, Cecile. 

Cecile. Oh, Alfred — nothing serious, I hope. 

Tevis. I can't tell until I'm on the ground. But 
that need not curtail your visit. 

Cecile. Really.'^ Oh, I do want to stay! Yet it 
seems selfish. 

Tevis. Not selfish at all. (Crosses to Mrs. Deer- 
ING.) I'm sorry to rush away so unceremoniously but 
the demand is urgent. 

Mrs. D. Are you going immediately .^^ 

Tevis. On the first train to the city. 

Mrs. D. If that provoking Jerry had not disap- 
peared, I could send you in the car. 

Tevis. Quite unnecessary, my dear Mrs. Deering. I 
have trespassed upon your charming hospitality as it is. 

Natalie. I'll drive you to the train myself. Oh, 
Alfred, must you go.-^ 

Tevis. I must. (Softly to her.) But only for a lit- 
tle while. 

Cecile (rising). How very inconsiderate of me to 
think of staying, Alfred — when you have all that busi- 
ness worry ahead of you. I'll go too. 

Tevis. Indeed 3^ou won't. 

Cecile. Indeed I shall. 

Natalie. Then I'll help you pack your suitcase. 

Cecile. It's practically packed — and I can throw 
a long coat over this gown. Please don't come, Nat- 
alie, for I can manage beautifully. 

Tevis. I don't want to spoil your visit, Cecile. 



106 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Cecile. And I don't want you to go alone. So it 
isn't worth arguing. You'll excuse me.^ {Starts up 
stairway followed by Natalie.) 

Tevis. And me.^ If you can excuse such an abrupt 
departure. 

Mrs. D. (rising). I'm sorry, of course, but business 
demands are inexorable. 

(As Tevis goes upstairs, Marion returns chairs to 
original positions save that back stage which is near 
center. Eileen crosses to back of table and stands 
against it.) 

Marion (returning down right). Well — what do you 
think-of it? 

Mrs. D. Think of it? What is there to think.? 

Lucy comes from dining room and removes card ta- 
ble. And suddenly Blair appears at doorway. 

Blair. Good morning! (To which Mrs. Deering 
responds with a curt nod and seats herself in the tele- 
phone chair.) 

Marion (as Blair crosses to her). And so you 
didn't go away after all! Bobby saw you deposit a 
suitcase in the car and drew his own conclusions. 

Blair. Tell Bobby that he guessed too soon. The 
suitcase was being sent back to its owner and the sup- 
posed journey ended in a nearby town where I met a 
friend who returned with me. 

Marion. Verdict — not guilty. (Sits right of ta- 
ble.) Won't you be seated.? (Motions to chair near 
center.) We are a bit disorganized at present by the 
sudden departure of Mr. Tevis and his sister. 

Blair (anxiously). Have they gone.? 

Marion. They're going in a very few minutes. 

Blair (sitting at center). Then I must come to tlie 
point quickly — for this is no social visit. For a few 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 107 

moments, Mrs. Deering, I ci*ave jour indulgence, al- 
though I realize that after last night any confidence 
which you have had in me must have been sadly shaken. 

Mrs. D. {with dignity). I am very glad to hear any- 
thing you may have to say, Mr. Blair. 

Blair. Thank you. I shall be brief. {After a mo- 
ment.) When Von Holz hurriedly departed, Mrs. Deer- 
ing, he left somewhere in this house an envelope which 
contains information of value to the United States. 

Marion. How do you know all this, Sheridan? 

Blair. Because I am a close friend of Hamilton 
Whitney, who is at the head of secret service. When 
he heard of my renting the next door house, he asked 
me — to watch. 

Mrs. D. Watch — whom.? 

Blair. One of your guests. 

Mrs. D. And why one of my guests .'^ 

Blair. Because this particular guest had been sus- 
pected of former affiliation with Germany — and it was 
surmised that he would be sent on this mission. 

Mrs. D. I resent your interference. 

Blair. It is not a personal interference, my dear 
lady ; it is a request of the Government. 

Marion. How did Mr. Whitney learn of the envel- 
ope.? 

Blair. That of course I do not know. My part 
was to keep a certain person under surveillance and to 
discover, if possible, the key to the hiding place. 

Mrs. D. Which you were to use.? {Very sarcas- 
tically. ) 

Blair. If necessary. Though that particular ex- 
ploit was preferably reserved for the other fellow. 

Marion. Well — what have you found out.? 

Blair. Enough to justify a telegram to Whitney 
last night. 



108 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Mabion. But if you know he is guilty why not ar- 
rest at once? 

Blair. You must remember that, as yet, his guilt 
is only a surmise. 

Marion. Then why the telegram.? 

Blair. Because the arrival of a confederate made 
me think that some definite action was to be taken imme- 
diately. Later — I was sure of my suspicion. 

Marion. Why ? 

Blair. Because I saw the key taken from behind 
the tapestry and slipped to the confederate. 

Mrs. D. (angrily), Mr. Blair, we are quite justified 
in believing what we heard last evening. You have 
proved — an enemy. 

Blair (rising). Rather — a protector. (Stands at 
right of center.) 

Mrs. D. (rising). And against which one of my 
guests do you make this absurd accusation? (Marion 
rises and stands at lower right. Eileen joins her.) 

Blair (glancing at Tevis and Cecile who, with 
Natalie, are descending the stairs.) The question is 
answered. 

Cecile (at center). Mr. Blair! And why this early 
morning call? (Natalie comes a little right of cen- 
ter and Tevis stands at Cecile's left.) 

Blair. Perhaps — to tell you goodbye. (To Tevis.) 
Tevis, may I see you for a few moments? 

Tevis. Sorry — but I've no time to spare. 

Blair. Then perhaps my friend may persuade you 
to linger. (Calls.) Whitney? 

From outdoors comes Whitney, determined, brusque 
and right to the point. 

Blair. May I present Mr. Whitney to you all? 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 109 



(Whitney hows to Mrs. Deering.) Tevis, I fancy, 
needs no introduction. 

Whitney. Hardly. 

Tevis. I fear there is some mistake. Mr. Whitney 
has the advantage of me. 

Whitney {at Tevis' left). Drop the pose, Tevis. 
You know who I am. 

Tevis (indifferently). The matter is not worth an 
argument. (Crosses to Mrs. Deering.) Goodbye, Mrs. 
Deering. I'm sorry for the hurried departure. 

Whitney. Why hurry, Tevis? Only say the word 
and I shall be glad to act as your messenger. The War 
Department has waited a long time for that particular 
envelope. 

Tevis. Really, Mrs. Deering, I am at a loss to know 
why this fellow insists on annoying me. Can you ex- 
plain ? 

Whitney (coming down center and standing at 
Tevis' right). Let me do the explaining — for doubt- 
less your hostess will be enhghtened. (To Mrs. Deer- 
ing.) Mrs. Deering, if you are to know this man in his 
true character, you must be made aware of a few facts 
concerning him. To the secret service department, 
Alfred Tevis is always just within the law — skilful 
enough to escape its meshes, daring enough to go the 
limit. We knew that — during the war — he was an agent 
of Germany; we know that in many ways he has be- 
trayed his country — for he is an American — but we 
have never yet been able to prove our suspicions and to 
apprehend him in the very act. 

Natalie (coming between Whitney and Tevis). 
Stop! How dare you ! Mr. Tevis is my fiance. 

Whitney. I fear not. (Glancing at Cecile.) His 
present companion is — and has been — for some time 
his wife. 



no OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Natalie (glancing at Cecile who smiles insolently 
and crosses from left of stage between Whitney and 
Natalie.) His wife! 

Whitney. And a clever one. I take this opportu- 
nity of paying my tribute to her quick wit, her wily 
stratagems and her never-failing charm. Like her hus- 
band — she is always within the law. (Natalie gropes 
her way to Mrs. Deering and stands by her^ hiding her 
face on her shoulder.) 

Tevis. I've had enough of this. (Starts to leave the 
room.) 

Whitney. Watch out, Tevis — the game is up. 
Schauff has double-crossed you. 

Tevis (off his guard). What? 

Whi^tney. He sold his secret to us three weeks ago. 

Tevis. And implicated me.^^ 

Whitney. Not at all. Your name was not men- 
tioned. When we heard that you were a guest in the 
very house of the secret, we naturally had our suspi- 
cions. Blair did the rest for us. 

Cecile. How very interesting — and amusing! But 
— this time Mr. W^hitney — we are not the culprits. 

Marion. May I say a word, Mr. Whitney.'' 

Whitney. Certainly. 

Marion. I regret to act in what seems an inhospit- 
able way, but loyalty to my own government forces me 
to state that — last night — I, myself, saw Miss Tevis 
open the door of the secret room — and enter it. 

Cecile. Ridiculous ! 

Marion. Not at all. Merely true. 

Cecile. I must have been walking in my sleep. 

Marion. I think not. 

Cecile. And how could I gain possession of the 
key.? 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 111 

Blair. It was slipped to you during the crystal 
reading. 

Whitney. So you see, the case is quite proved. Ac- 
cordingly, hand over the envelope. 

Cecile. But there is no envelope. 

Whitney. My dear Mrs. Tevis, you can't expect 
us to believe that. 

Cecile. Believe it or not — just as you choose. The 
fact remains that we have been the victims of a trick. 

Tevis. Cecile! 

Cecile. Why attempt the impossible, Alfred? Own 
up — for even if you hadn't given yourself away, the 
evidence is. against us. 

Tevis {defiantly to Whitney). Then — what are 
you going to do about it.^^ 

And Jerry — resplendent in summer flannels — ap- 
pears at the doorway. 

Eileen (a5 she spies him). Jerry! Jerry! (Starts 
to him.) 

Marion (holding her back). Remember, Eileen, that 
Jerry has a few explanations to make. 

Jerry. Quite a few. Shall I make them now — or 
am I interrupting.? 

Mrs. D. You are interrupting — most decidedly. 
Return to the garage where you belong. 

Jerry. But I don't belong in the garage. (Ad- 
vances.) In reality, I am your neighbor, Donald Je- 
rome. 

Mrs. D. Donald Jerome? 

Jerry. And I have in my possession an official docu- 
ment which belongs to you. (Comes down center and 
hands envelope to Mrs. Deering. Returns and stands 
at Blair's left.) 



m OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Mrs. D. {examining the envelope). This is not 
mine. 

Whitney. Then may I examine it? {She hands it 
to him, he breaks the seal and on opening it reveals blue 
prints.) Just as I suspected — the missing treasure. 
Now, Mr. Jerome, will you kindly inform me just where 
you found this? 

Jerry {pointing). In that small room — off there. 

Whitney. And what were you doing in that room? 

Eileen. I'll answer that question. For I pushed 
him into the room and locked the door. 

Mrs. D. You pushed Jerry into the room? 

Eileen. Of course I did. I thought he was the 
highwayman and I didn't want him to be caught. 

Mrs. D. Why should you think him the highway- 
man ? 

Eileen. Well I just did — that's all. 

Jerry. Let me tell the story from that point. After 
the door was locked, I began to investigate my sur- 
roundings as well as I could. Feeling along the wall, 
my hand in some way must have touched a hidden com- 
bination — for the panel began to move. I struck a 
match — and found the envelope. {Pauses.) I found 
more. 

Whitney. And what? 

Jerry. That beyond the panel there was a passage 
of some sort. I crawled through — shut the panel be- 
hind me — followed the passage — and came out in the 
lane back of the house. 

Blair. All of which explains Von Holz's mysterious 
escape. {Turns to Jerry.) And to you belongs the 
honor of unravelling the tangle in which we found our- 
selves enmeshed. 

Jerry. I am glad to be of service — even uninten- 
tionally. 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 113 

Whitney. So — Tevis — bj a turn of the wheel of 
chance, the prize escapes you. 

Cecile. And by another turn of the same wheel of 
chance — we escape you. For — Mr. Whitney — we are 
still within the law. 

Marion. No charge must come from this household, 
Mr. Whitney. I insist. By all of us the matter is re- 
garded as merely an unfortunate episode — and it will 
soon be forgotten. 

Whitney. There must be an investigation at head- 
quarters. Miss Deering, for there are other inquiries 
to be made. But — beyond that — there will probably 
be nothing. {Turns.) Come — both of you! We must 
be starting. (Goes to doorway.) 

Tevis {crossing to Mrs. Deering). Can you par- 
don me.'* {Holds out his hand. She turns her head 
away.) Natalie .f^ {She makes no sign.) I'm sorry. 
{Joins Whitney at doorway.) 

Cecile {at center). Don't be a goose, Natalie — and 
be thankful that you escaped. For even if I were not 
in your way, your baby face could never have held him. 
{Looks around.) Dear me! What a serious company! 
Is it all for me.'' And is my farewell to be that of the 
virtuous look, the exemplary warning and the self-sat- 
isfied attitude? {Laughs.) Spare me! For my beauti- 
ful iridescent bubble of a world is giving me just what 
I want — and if the bubble burst — what then? {Turns.) 
Mr. Blair — your arm! {With Blair she goes off at 
doorway.) 

Mrs. D. {quietly). Natalie, you must rest, dear. 
{They cross to stairway.) 

Marion. And is there nobody — whom you wish — 
with you? 

Natalie {turning). Nobody — but Bobby. Oh, 
Marion, will you send Bobby to me? 



114 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Marion. Lwill — oh I will! (Goes out at doonvay.) 

(Natalie and Mrs. Deering ascend the stairs.) 

Jerry. Eileen, I stand before you — a reformed man ! 

Eileen. Jerry, you're making fun of me. (Sits on 
arm of chair hy table.) 

Jerry. Making fun of you ! I'm trying to demon- 
strate the success of your course in respectability. 

Eileen. But you deceived me. 

Jerry. That was the easiest way to be near you. 

Eileen (sighing). And, after all, you turn out to 
be somebody entirely different. 

Jerry. I believe you're disappointed. 

Eileen. Well — criminals are interesting. 

Jerry (suddenly). Then — hands up! (He points 
an imaginary revolver. Eileen holds up her hands.) 
Stand and deliver! 

Eileen. Deliver — what.'' 

Jerry. Yourself. 

Eileen. And — to whom.? 

Jerry. To the highwayman. (Draws her to him.) 
Listen, dear. There's a perfectly good and respectable 
parent of mine waiting for you — out there. May I 
take you to him? 

Eileen (mischievously). Isn't a highwayman accus- 
tomed to take whatever's handed to him.? (Holds up 
her face.) 

Jerry (as he kisses her). He is! (They run off at 
doorway.) 

Stage clear for a moment, then Marion enters with 
Bobby from doorway. 

Marion. Now, hurry, dear — and remember first of 
all — that mother needs you. (Bobby starts up stairway 
— then turns and comes slowly back to her.) 



OUT OF THE STILLNESS 115 



Bobby. Aren't you going to need me any more, 
Aunt Marion? 

Marion {holding out her arms). Always, Bobby, al- 
ways. {After a moment he turns and goes quickly up- 
stairs.) 

Marion crosses to piano bench and seats herself. 
Blair enters from doorway. 

Marion {in surprise). I thought you had gone with 
Mr. Whitney. 

Blair. Only to the car. I came back to make my 
own confession. {Stands at her left.) 

Marion. Haven't we had quite enough confessions 
as it is? 

Blair. Perhaps. They are sad but necessary things. 

Marion. I'm very happy today. 

Blair. And why? 

Marion. Natalie has asked for Bobby. 

Blair. At last? 

Marion. At last. I can't help but feel that it is 
Bob speaking to her — 

Blair. Although she does not realize it. 

Marion. So much has happened, Sheridan, since the 
Voice came. So much of real joy. 

Blair {after a pause). Marion, I have not been 
quite frank with you. Even the name you call me is not 
my own. 

Marion. You are not Sheridan Blair? 

Blair. Only as I have the right to claim my grand- 
father's name. 

Marion. Then — who are you? 

Blair. Someone who loved you before he ever saw 
you — someone who knew you through your letters to 
his — friend. 



116 OUT OF THE STILLNESS 

Marion (slowly) . You — are — John — Carey? 
(Rises.) 

B1.AIR. I am John Carey— Bob's best friend. You 
would not let me come to you as I wished ; accordingly 
I was forced to choose my own way. (Pauses.) May I 
say more? 

Marion. Yes. 

Blair. I met— and knew — Jane Carroll— overseas. 
After Bob's death she reahzed my longing for you— 
and offered to help. When personal pleas proved un- 
availing, she learned of this nearby house. I obtained 

it and, through her, found an excuse to meet you. 

Am I forgiven? 

Marion. There is nothing to forgive. 
Blair. Then— is there something to— hope for? 
(They stand in silence for a moment. Then, The 
Voice speaks from the vicinity of the stairs.) 

The Voice. Jack! Sis! V\^hy can't you under- 
stand? VS^hy are you waiting? 
Marion. You hear? 
Blair. Yes— I hear. 

The Voice. Don't you realize that your love for 
each other means my greatest happiness? (Marion 
goes to Blair.) For— out of the stillness— comes my 

blessing ! 

Cuetain. 



Plays for Schools and Colleges 

THE HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMAN 

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THE KINGDOM OF HEART'S CONTENT 

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A POOR MARRIED MAN 

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THE REAL THING AFTER ALL 

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RE-TAMING OF THE SHREW 

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SING A SONG OF SENIORS 

By Lindsey Barbee. Comedietta; 7 females. Time, 30 
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STAR BRIGHT 

By Edith F. A. U. Palnton. Comedy-drama in 3 acts; 
6 males, 5 females. Time, 2l^ hours. Price, 35 Cents. 

ZARAGUETA OR MONEY TALKS 

Translated from the Spanish by Clarence Stratton. 

Comedy in 2 acts; 7 males, 4 females. Time, 2 hours. 

Price, 35 Cents. 

T. S. Denison & Company » Publishers 

154 West Randolph Street CHICAGO 



— iiir 

Standard and Amateur Plays 

Our list of plays comprises hundreds of 
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All shades of sentiment are represented, all 
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for in this list. 



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